


I Don't Fucking Care (At All)

by wonwoozi



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Cheating, Denial of Feelings, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Violence, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Public Sex, Smut, inconsistent writing (i assure you)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7452577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonwoozi/pseuds/wonwoozi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your boyfriend’s hot when he plays.” Jackson mumbles to him as he slips an arm behind Jinyoung, hand finding purchase on the edge of the wooden bartop, his fingers gripping the ribbed edge. </p><p>“He’s not my boyfriend.” Jinyoung replies instinctively and gives Jackson a routine jab to the ribs. “And that’s my line, by the way.” He adds as his eyes trail over to Mark, sat behind the drumkit with his face trained into a concentrated smirk, smashing every beat perfectly, hair positively dripping with sweat. </p><p>“Not my boyfriend either.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> ok so after working on this for like, almost a month, i actually _really_ hate it but i also decided that i wrote too much of it not to post it and so, here we are! even though i've had my struggles with it, i really hope that somebody out there likes it (sorry im not used to writing longfics!!) also r.i.p im so bad at smut sor ry
> 
> * * *
> 
>  _"Tell me pretty lies, look me in the face,_  
>  _Tell me that you love me, even if it's fake_  
>  _Cause I don't fucking care, at all."_  
>  \- Blackbear, [idfc](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LmWBphAf72g>idfc</a>)

I.

The musky scent of sweat and beer combines itself with the steady stream of smoke teetering from the tips of glowing cigarette and shaky exhales, almost sickeningly thick. The flashing lights are blinding when amalgamated with the deafening sound of the bass drum and floor tom-tom and people are swaying, jumping drunkenly from side to side in time with the music.

Jinyoung watches from the bar with a hazy smile on his face as his eyes follow the way Jaebum’s fingers move quickly up and down the neck of the bass guitar, other hand busy plucking at the chords. There’s not a huge number of people present but enough that the dingy basement of the pub is filled to the brim and teaming with scummy drunkards and scantily clad girls, waving their hands back and forth as they mouth along to the grungy, pop-punk tune. 

The vibe’s alright and Jinyoung’s nodding his head back and forth as he takes sip after sip of his beer, eyes trained on Jaebum and Jaebum alone.

He knows Jaebum gets off on this, the attention from the crowd and the screams of girls he’ll inevitably bed at some point, but there’s a sense of satisfaction deep in the pit of his stomach at knowing they’ll never even be close to having what he has with Jaebum.

 

“Your boyfriend’s hot when he plays.” Jackson mumbles to him as he slips an arm behind Jinyoung, hand finding purchase on the edge of the wooden bartop, his fingers gripping the ribbed edge.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Jinyoung replies instinctively and gives Jackson a routine jab to the ribs. “And that’s my line, by the way.” He adds as his eyes trail over to Mark, sat behind the drumkit with his face trained into a concentrated smirk, smashing every beat perfectly, hair positively dripping with sweat.

“Not my boyfriend either.”

“Not your boyfriend, _yet._ ” Jinyoung corrects him and he revels in the little ‘tsch’ sound Jackson makes.

“And what does that make Jaebum, then?”

There’s a pause between the question and Jinyoung’s answer.

“A bassist. Don’t you know bassists do it deeper?” He teases and grins slyly as Jackson chokes on his drink.

“Well at least I have a drummer as a potential boyfriend,” Jackson notes, the golden liquid in his cup sloshing around with each messy, disjointed movement of his hand. “Drummers do it harder.”

Jinyoung smiles wickedly.

“Well it’s a relief that Jaebum plays the drums too, then.”

 

A song or two later and they’re discussing their friends’ careers, a common subject of interest during their shows.

“Just checking, I’m not the only one that’s a little pissed of with how much the crowd loves them, right?” Jackson asks tentatively before taking a large gulp of the pint in his right hand, eyes never leaving the stage. Jinyoung grins and his lips are filled with mirth.

“Of course not. You think I want them to be able to boast about this, only 4 months into actually playing legit gigs?” He laughs under his breath, lungs constricting with emotion as the song finishes and Jaebum shoots the crowd his signature smirk. “Please.”

 

Jaebum’s technically the front man, despite Youngjae being the lead singer, and that certainly wins him a lot of popularity in the phone number department. Jaebum’s not really a sleazeball like Bambam is, but he doesn’t refrain from sleeping with a groupie or two now and then either. 

If Jinyoung’s being honest about it, pop punk has never been his favourite genre, not really his scene. He’d always rolled his eyes whenever Jaebum forced him to listen to one of the new albums he'd bought, and his eyeballs would practically fall out of his head every time he heard another band singing some off-beat melody about how much they hated their home town. But it made Jaebum happy, so he put up with it. For the most part anyway.

He’s always preferred Jaebum’s other music tastes, like his R&B catalogue, or his oddly large soul folder that consists of an unhealthy number of D’angelo and Javier Colon songs.

(Though he will admit he did steal Jaebum’s Third Eye Blind cd _one time_ purely to download ‘Never Let You Go’. He’d returned it with Jaebum none the wiser.) 

So it’s unsurprising that he isn’t a huge fan of Jaebum’s band, which is definitely more pop punk infused, inspiration taken from guitar smashers and playboys (even though Jinyoung knows Jaebum would _never_ smash his bass, he cherishes that thing like it’s his first born). It doesn’t quite work with Yugyeom’s guitar riffs or Youngjae’s voice, but they’re not bad by any means.

 

They finish up their set and walk off stage as the audience applauds, Jaebum throwing them a peace sign and a wink before he lugs his own instrument off with him. The chatter levels increase drastically and Jackson turns to Jinyoung with a low groan. 

“Oh no, here comes the awkward flirting part. _Please_ don’t let this happen to me again Jinyoung, I can only witness so much of you and Jaebum’s pathetic tension without barfing.” He whines, shying away slightly as Jinyoung bats his arm with the back of his hand.

“What’s this about barfing?” The two of them hear Jaebum’s voice ask as he comes up behind them and snakes an arm around Jinyoung’s waist, grinning from ear to ear as he holds out a fist for Jackson to bump. There’s still slick sweat trickling from his brow and the little makeup he’d put on before the show is now smudged around and underneath his eyes, like a metaphorical symptom of the sleepless nights Jinyoung knows he’s been having.

 

Jackson eyes the firm hand on Jinyoung’s waist with a suggestive smile as he bumps Jaebum’s fist and Jinyoung shoots him a look that says _I swear to god Jackson Wang I will kill you_.

Just in time to save Jinyoung’s ass, Mark shows up with Youngjae in tow and confiscates the pint from Jackson’s hand, permitting himself to a swift gulp of his drink. Jackson schools his face into a frown but Jinyoung can tell he’s secretly trying really hard not to smile. Cute. 

“You guys were really good.” Jinyoung congratulates them, looking pointedly at all of the members except Jaebum. He doesn’t need to, not when Jackson’s around to tease him to hell and back for it.

“Thanks hyung.” Youngjae laughs and dabs at his forehead with the hem of his shirt, an attempt to wipe away the sticky remnants of sweat and probably Bambam’s drunken kisses. Everybody’s well versed on the topic of how Bambam gets after drinking.

“And I assume a certain Yugyeom is with a certain Bambam?” Jackson prods as he snatches his (now almost finished) beer back from Mark and swallows it before the elder has a chance to take it again.

 Mark giggles and Jaebum nods.

“Yeah he went off with Bambam pretty quickly, didn’t even stick around to score any of these.” Jaebum gloats with a sheepish-yet-smug expression as he holds up 4 slips of paper between his third and forefinger, numbers scrawled across them in dainty handwriting. Jinyoung pretends to ignore the way Jackson’s eyes flicker to him momentarily.

 

The five of them order another round of drinks and Jinyoung only has to deal with 2 cute girls coming up to Jaebum, hair twirled around their fingers, ready to talk to him. Overall, it’s a pretty good night. Jaebum’s always been somewhat _popular_ with a crowd, even when it doesn’t really make sense, and the endless numbers from guys and girls are pretty good evidence of that.

In high school, Jaebum had been an anomaly. He was daring, rough around the edges, and lazy beyond belief when it came to schoolwork, all qualities of a guy wasting his life on some stupid pipe dream filled with fantasies of standing on stage and pouring his everything into music. He was the kid that rarely did his homework, had pierced ears (a new one every semester so it seemed) and listened to rebellious music, a typical sore thumb in a field of preppy uniforms and BMWs. However, that didn’t stop him claiming enough friends to dominate the entire student body. 

He wasn’t quite what one would call a delinquent, not even _really_ an outsider. Sure, he had little motivation and his projects were lackluster at best, but there were no tales of mass vandalism or humiliating teachers in public. Jaebum was just a funny, attractive boy with a lot of friends and low grades to boot. Jinyoung might’ve always been a tiny bit jealous of him, deep deep down.

 

Jinyoung sighs as he sees a guy approaching them, dressed in ripped black jeans and a plaid shirt that had been previously befouled with coffee and booze. He recognises him as the fairly good looking fella that routinely approaches Jaebum after gigs, clearly trying to flirt his way into Jaebum’s pants. 

And it’s not like Jaebum’s oblivious either, he knows exactly what the boy wants but he never seems quite ready to give it to him. Or maybe it’s because Jinyoung’s there, he’s not sure, but he likes to hope. He watches in mild amusement as Jaebum sends him away with so much as a smile.

 

Yugyeom and Bambam show up somewhere between 2nd drinks and 4th drinks, Bambam bouncy as ever with Yugyeom at his side looking marginally less excited, but happy nonetheless.

The 7 of them drink until the early hours of the morning and the bar owners are throwing them out, just in time too, because the moment they step out of the door Youngjae keels over and empties his stomach of all its contents. 

Jinyoung bundles himself in his bomber jacket, arms wrapped around his torso and fingers clinging desperately to the material, trying to pry some kind of warmth out of the garment. It’s fucking cold for an October evening (well, technically morning) and he prays Youngjae’s vomit doesn’t freeze on the pavement.

 

Jackson stands by him silently, eyes dragging over Mark’s body as he bends to pat Youngjae on the back, rubbing comforting circles between his shoulderblades. Jinyoung doesn’t say anything but he can hear Jackson thinking from beside him, mind darting through all of the possibilities and ways something could get between him and Mark, Jackson thinks about it all the time. 

In all fairness, it’s not surprising for one to think about all the ways in which somebody could claim the person that isn’t officially yours, Jinyoung’s been through the motions. He spares a glance at Jaebum as the taller boy prises a cigarette out of Bambam’s hand and holds it up to his own mouth. He’s been through the motions.

 

II.

Jinyoung sneezes abruptly into the crook of his elbow as he drags the progressively hardening eggs across the pan, trying to stir the remaining yolk as it leaks from the centre. He can hear Jaebum showering through the wall of the kitchen and tries his hardest not to smile when the low hum of singing carries through, gracing Jinyoung’s ears with its soft melody.

The water shuts off just as Jinyoung’s finished dishing out the eggs onto two, ceramic plates, decorated each with a side of generic, machine-sliced toast (coated in enough butter to mask the bland taste of nothingness) and he hears the pad of Jaebum’s feet across the wooden floorboards, making their way to Jinyoung’s room.

 

When Jaebum finally shows up a few minutes later, hair sopping wet and spotting his shirt with ever darkening splodges, he finds Jinyoung at the counter pouring some freshly brewed coffee. He creeps up behind him as silently as a fox in the dead of night, and curls his arms around Jinyoung in a back hug, finally able to rest his chin on the flat of Jinyoung’s shoulder.

“Mm, smells good.” He notes absentmindedly as he watches Jinyoung’s nimble fingers at work, darting back and forth between the sugar spoon and the milk. He observes immovably as the white trickles into the black, twirling pirouettes meeting to form a caramel brown. It’s hypnotic.

Jinyoung tilts his head a little until it falls softly against Jaebum’s ear, a small action but enough to be translated as a _‘thank you’_. Jaebum’s always loved Jinyoung’s cooking, since the first time their parents gifted them the freedom to bake chocolate-chip cookies for the school’s fundraiser, and still to the present day.

There’s a lot that he loves about Jinyoung.

 

“Jaebum you’re getting my shirt wet.” Jinyoung mutters and his hand offers up a Star Wars mug of caffeine. Jaebum gracefully accepts the hot beverage in one of his large, seemingly heat-proof hands but tucks his face into the length of Jinyoung’s neck, lips puckering to press fluttering kisses to the skin.

Jaebum feels Jinyoung shiver slightly as he leans back against him, and smiles triumphantly.

“Hyung, please, I’m hungry.” Jinyoung whines petulantly and Jaebum can’t help but grin, baring his teeth against the warmth of Jinyoung’s throat, while Jinyoung’s hand reaches for the tub of gochujang because he knows it’s Jaebum’s favourite on scrambled eggs.

“Ok, but I’m going to make you feel incredible after breakfast.” He whispers into the shell of Jinyoung’s ear, glowing at the faintest sign of Jinyoung’s breath catching in his throat.

“I’m gonna hold you to that promise, hyung.”

 

And he does, not moments after Jinyoung’s finished clearing the plates away, Jaebum wraps his strong arms around Jinyoung’s tiny frame.

Jaebum is uncharacteristically soft as his hands slide into Jinyoung’s pyjama bottoms, palming his semi as mellow lips drag against the sensitive skin that leads from his shoulder to his jugular. It’s the sweet, melodious tune that Jaebum’s humming that really gets to him though, a telltale sign that Jaebum’s feeling nostalgic.

Takes him all of 4 seconds to realise it’s D’angelo’s ‘Brown Sugar’ and a groan leaves his lips as he lets his head fall back against Jaebum’s broad shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

It doesn’t all go down in the kitchen though. Jaebum strokes him to full hardness before leading him back to bed, sheets all crumpled and strewn about the place from where the two of them had unceremoniously hauled themselves out of it in a morning stupor. It reminds Jinyoung of the first time he and Jaebum ever did anything remotely sexual. To be honest, it had been a long time coming.

 

The two of them had been friends in elementary school (after a period of believing they thoroughly hated each other, something that began when Jinyoung took the only pair of left handed scissors as there were none others available, an action that left Jaebum with many grievances), due to the one and only Mark Tuan.

Mark had been neighbours with Jaebum for years but had also been family friends with Jinyoung for longer, and he'd been distraught once he’d found out about his friend's ongoing feud. It had taken a few months of coaxing them to remain in each other’s presence for over 5 minutes before they realised they actually sort of liked each other, in an odd, round about way. And the rest? Well, that’s history.

 

Jaebum rakes his tongue down the slight dip of Jinyoung’s chest, mouthing anywhere and everywhere he can get to before pausing to allow his nose to nuzzle the smooth plane of Jinyoung’s stomach. It makes Jinyoung giggle and yank his hair upwards, and Jaebum avoids the urge to hiss as his head follows after.

“That tickles, asshole.” Jinyoung breathes and Jaebum takes in how incredibly, unabashedly gorgeous he looks with pink cheeks and hooded eyes, droplets of sweat dotting his hairline.

“You’re beautiful, y’know.” The mumbled comment slips out of Jaebum’s mouth by accident and Jinyoung’s eyes widen a tad like he’s hearing it for the first time.

 

Jinyoung still remembers the first time Jaebum touched him _like that_ **,** at summer camp when they were 16 years old. Though it wasn’t their first kiss (that had occurred when highly inebriated at Jackson’s older brother’s party) it had certainly felt _different_ **.** It was the day their group had been given unlimited access to the ‘watering hole’ (the camp's nickname for the on-site pool) and Jinyoung had felt too tired to partake, choosing instead to stay at the cabin and sleep.

Jaebum had returned an hour earlier than the others, claiming he’d had enough of Jackson’s high pitched screaming and that swimming was boring anyway, but there’d been something in the way Jinyoung’s eyes trailed over his dampening Bart Simpson t-shirt, the way it clung to his teenage biceps, which had sparked whatever it was between them. A lit match to kindling, or something like that.

It’d happened in a flash, Jaebum’s lips pressed to Jinyoung’s, so hungry in nature, so demanding and inexperienced and messy. Jinyoung could still remember how the material of Jaebum’s shirt felt clasped in his hands, how he’d moaned and arched off the bed as the elder palmed him through his shorts. Months and months of pent up frustration and sexual tension had finally become too much and there was little else to do but give into their raging hormones.

The majority of the experience had been pretty gentle, honestly, and Jinyoung had come in Jaebum’s hand just as his phone went off, the ‘Brown Sugar’ ringtone shattering the quiet of short pants and low mewls, all heavy petting ceasing instantly. It’d just been Jackson and Mark wondering if either he or Jinyoung wanted ice cream from the store and if so, which flavour. Jinyoung had never wanted to curse out his friends more in his entire life.

 

Since then the friendship between the two of them has never been quite the same. Their relationship is largely ambiguous, neither of them openly discussing it with each other or really anybody else, but they’re first and foremost best friends and that will never change.

 

Jinyoung arches into Jaebum’s touch as he goes down on him, fingers laced through dark strands of hair, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as the pad of Jaebum’s thumbs rub circles into his jutting hipbones.

It’s perfect, it always is with Jaebum. The drag of his tongue along Jinyoung’s cock is part of what makes him so tempted to claim Jaebum as his own, and he’s almost considered doing it multiple times. Almost being the key word.

Because it doesn’t matter how many times Jaebum falls asleep with his nose pressed to Jinyoung’s back, or how often he buys him sugary coffee as a morning gift, or kisses him goodnight when they part ways, it’s always going to be too complicated. Jaebum gets bored quickly and Jinyoung doesn’t know what he wants.

That’s just how it is and Jinyoung has accepted that.

 

(Has he?)

 

III.

“When do you think Jinyoung and Jaebum will finally get it together and confess to each other?” Mark asks casually as he traces his fingers over the coarse hair on Jackson’s chest, walking his fingertips down to the younger’s happy trail.

Jackson hums thoughtfully, eyes closed where his head is propped up against a pillow and the sunlight is filtering in through the blinds, illuminating his features like a god.

“Not sure, really. Maybe never,” He muses, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards with each and every one of Mark’s touches.

“Remember in high school when they were really obvious around each other?” Mark continues to prod the subject with a reminiscent chuckle and it’s all Jackson needs to smile properly, sleepy eyes cracking open to look at Mark.

“Are you kidding me? Jinyoung used to ogle Jaebum in the locker room after gym and Jaebum would return the favour during games of spin the bottle. They were a mess. They still are.”

Jackson’s laughter is contagious, Mark thinks, the kind of laughter that has emotions bubbling up in your throat, the kind of laughter that makes children smile and birds sing. Jackson has one of the two nicest laughs Mark’s ever heard.

He doesn’t want to think about the other one right now.

 

“Oh like you were any better, Mr play-drinking-games-to-kiss-people-whenever-possible,” Mark taunts, rolling over slightly so he’s face to face with Jackson’s wide eyes.

“H-hey,” Jackson starts, eye’s darting down to Mark’s pink lips. “That was largely because I didn’t want to sit around watching you curled up in Youngjae’s lap...” His muttering trails off as Mark envelopes his lips with his own, kiss pressing up into a puppy-like pout. It’s a short but sweet kiss and Mark pulls back into a sitting position, stretching his arms up above his head.

“Work?” Jackson asks, the tiniest hint of disappointment lacing his voice.

Mark nods regretfully and shifts the duvet back so he can start looking for his clothes. 

Jackson pulls the covers over his eyes and listens out for the familiar click of the door as Mark leaves.

 

IV.

“Jackson I’m being serious.” Yugyeom whines sulkily and Jackson sighs.

“Ok, so why don’t you want me to supply your best friend with any more drugs, again?” He asks as he stirs a packet of artificial sweetener into his latte, ignoring the disgusted look it earns from Yugyeom.

_(“Hyung you do realise sweetener is just as bad for you, right?”_

_“Let me live Yugyeom.")_

“Because he’s been out of control recently. I’m scared about what it might do to him if he goes too far.” There’s a slight wobble in Yugyeom’s voice and it tugs on Jackson’s heartstrings enough to get him to consider.

 

Jackson knows that Yugyeom cares for little else in this world beside his guitar and Bambam, and while guitars can be replaced, Bambam can’t be.

“Fine, I won’t give him anything tonight, not even if he begs,” Jackson relents and Yugyeom looks up at him with gleaming eyes, relief gushing from his very being. “But I won’t let my title of best hyung be soiled by you, so if he asks why, I’m sending him your way.”

Yugyeom doesn’t seem to care about the additional condition as he pulls Jackson into an awkward, over-table hug, all long limbs and the scent of axe deodorant.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough kid.” He laughs as Yugyeom retreats into his seat with a stiff grin.

“Sorry.”

Jackson smiles as he takes a sip of his coffee.

 

V.

They’re left waiting in the queue outside the dingy club for amount 20 minutes before they get in, neon lights blazing the name of the establishment into their retinas, and Jinyoung deeply regrets wearing such thoroughly ripped jeans. He’d be shivering if it weren’t for Jaebum’s coat wrapped haphazardly around his shoulders, a gesture very familiar to him.

The youngest of them are still buzzing excitedly, Bambam tugging on Yugyeom’s arm as he talks his ear off, but Yugyeom doesn’t seem to mind (no surprise there). It feels like years but they’re finally let in just as Jinyoung’s on the brink of suggesting they go somewhere else, and the solace that the prospect of a warm club offers is enough to get him through the door in record time. 

The club is loud, louder than any of them remember it being, and there are strobe lights and purple lasers darting across the room, impressively in time with the heavy beat. There’s a glowing bar lining the back, shelves brimming with every type of alcohol under the sun, just a pretty standard club but it’s the perfect place to get absolutely fucked.

They order a round of shots before dispersing for the night. Some of them hover around the bar a little while longer, Jackson murmuring things to Mark that seem to be earning him brownie points if Mark’s dazzling smile is anything to go by, and Jaebum buys Jinyoung a cocktail.

Jinyoung can already tell by the glint in Jaebum’s eye that he’s going to have fun tonight but a little bit of him is desperate to push the boundaries, see how far he can go, how much he can make Jaebum want him. And so that’s exactly what he does.

 

Jinyoung throws his head back against the firm shoulder of his suitor as he grinds his hips filthily, stirring them in delicious half circles as the nameless man slides the planes of his hands around and down to Jinyoung’s small waist. He can feel the hot, laboured breathing against his nape and it only serves to heighten his satisfaction, hairs standing on end with every thump and drop of the EDM’s beat. The hands on his hips dip lower, finding their way into his denim pockets, and lips brush against his skin tantalisingly slowly. It’s maddening.

The most exciting part about the whole thing, however, is the heat he feels from Jaebum’s glare across the dance floor, eyes fixed solely on Jinyoung and his ministrations. He glances up for a split second and his gaze meets Jaebum’s, mischievous grin taunting the elder with hidden provocation and promises of reward.

His eyes stay with Jaebum’s as the man behind him begins to trail wet kisses up his neck, body pressed firmly to Jinyoung’s. His eyes are conveying one, simple message:

 _Come and get me_.

 

Jaebum seems to understand it easily enough as he downs the rest of his drink, jaw tensing at the foul taste of the cheap alcohol, and makes his way over to Jinyoung.

“Sorry to interrupt this dance, but I need Jinyoung for a moment,” He says with a polite but demanding smile, one that shouldn’t be messed with.

“Uh, can’t you see we’re a little busy?” The man replies, looking Jaebum up and down as if to say _‘who the fuck are you?’_.

“I don’t care, fuck off before I make you.” There’s a streak of something in Jaebum’s voice that makes the man comply without any further protest, which catches Jinyoung by surprise. The guy removes his hands from Jinyoung’s waist and mutters annoyedly as he retreats into the crowd to look for somebody else to hang all over.

 

“Jaebum, that was rude.” Jinyoung says with a feigned frown, trying to keep up the act even as Jaebum slides Jinyoung’s hand into his own.

“Come on, Jackson’s dishing out supplies. Let’s go get some.” He says in a low voice so only Jinyoung will hear him. Even when he’s sober, Jinyoung can’t say no to that voice, so he follows blindly as Jaebum pulls him through to the backroom, which is dimly lit and well concealed.

 

Jackson’s got a small crowd of about 5 people surrounding him and he’s handing things over as inconspicuously as possible, taking notes up his sleeves in return for small doses of happiness wrapped in transparent plastic.

“We’ll take 2.” Jaebum states more than requests, and Jackson hands him a small plastic baggie containing two circular, blue pills. Jaebum’s got a running tab with Jackson because he’s never not paid him back, and besides, it’s all pretty standard among musicians and friends.

Jaebum turns back to Jinyoung with a devious smirk as he places the powder blue pill on his tongue, fingers fishing out the other one.

“Open wide,” He instructs and Jinyoung does as he’s told, stretching his mouth open to allow Jaebum to plant the pill on his own tongue, before he expertly swallows it.

“Now, let’s have a good time.” Jaebum smiles as he takes Jinyoung’s hand back into his, and ignores the look Jackson throws them.

 

VII.

Jinyoung’s no stranger to the effects of Ecstasy because while he’s not a druggie, he’s also certainly not foreign to the odd pill or line. Everything feels good, the roaring bass-line encouraging him instead of advancing an inevitable alcohol-induced headache, his emotions fizzing and jumping inside him, ready to burst at the seams.

He’s got his arms hooked around Jaebum’s neck as he grinds on him, the sensation intense and amplified tenfold, and everything feels 1000 times better than it would normally. He recognises himself growing horny as his hands rake paths through Jaebum’s hair, lost in the trance of the music.

“Jaebum,” He mumbles and he half doesn’t expect the other to hear him through the thumping music, but he does and he looks down, pupils blown.

“Can we go to the bathroom?” He asks and Jaebum reads the hidden message, lips quirking upwards into a smile. He nods and Jinyoung grabs his hand, for the nth time this night so it seems, and drags him round to the back where the battered men’s room door sits idly.

 

As soon as they’re through the door to the toilets, Jaebum pushes Jinyoung into a cubicle, locks it, and slams him up against the sealed door. Jinyoung can smell the musk of Jaebum’s aftershave from where he’s got him pinned and it’s driving him crazy already.

Then it’s hungry lips on equally hungry lips, desperation seeping in through the tongue and mismatched rhythm. There’s a tiny bit of teeth and Jinyoung whimpers low in his throat as Jaebum takes his bottom lip between his incisors, tugging. They kiss until Jinyoung needs to breathe properly and nudges Jaebum off him, panting lightly as he observes the sinful string of saliva stretched between and still connecting their mouths.

 

“Do you have a condom?” He asks through laboured breathing, eyelids heavy as he bites his swollen, sensitive lips. Jaebum nods and reaches for his back pocket, pulling out a condom and a sachet of lube.

“You brought lube?” Jinyoung scoffs, cheeks aching from the combination of smiling and kissing.

“You can never be too prepared.” Jaebum laughs with unbridled confidence before capturing Jinyoung’s lips in another electrifying kiss. Jinyoung melts into it, fully immersed in the taste of fruity alcohol and his knees go weak when Jaebum does that _thing_ with his tongue. They only keep it up for a moment or two before Jaebum’s getting to work on Jinyoung’s belt, fumbling with the clasp before unzipping his jeans and tugging them halfway down his thighs.

He gives Jinyoung one last smug grin, eyes mirthful and dark and so clouded with lust, before he slowly sinks to his knees and Jinyoung feels his heart stop for a moment.

When they’d first started mucking about as late teenagers, Jaebum had been reluctant to suck Jinyoung off. They’d come to a mutual agreement to explore the realms of their sexuality with each other after their first few encounters (they trusted each other enough) and while Jaebum had no qualms with giving Jinyoung quick handjobs or receiving lazy blowjobs in exchange, he’d never quite been able to put his mouth anywhere near Jinyoung’s dick. Call it a denial thing.

Of course he’d eventually overcome it one fateful night after his band’s first performance, back when their only gigs were at friend’s parties and school talent shows, but Jinyoung had never quite shaken the sense of victory he felt every time it happened.

He watches as Jaebum mouths his erection through the thin material of his boxers, cheeks flushing pink at the way Jaebum’s long lashes cast shadows under his eyes as he shuts them and curls his fingers over the waistband, tugging until Jinyoung’s underwear meets his jeans at his knees.

Jaebum spares Jinyoung one last glance and Jinyoung stops breathing, totally engrossed by the way Jaebum looks as he takes his dick into his mouth wholeheartedly.

He threads his fingers through Jaebum’s hair and leans his head back against the cool plastic surface of the door, focusing on the feeling of Jaebum’s hot tongue on him, running languid and loose up and down his length. Jaebum starts to bob his head lecherously and Jinyoung sucks in a breath. Jaebum, despite his bravado and domineering personality, sucks cock like a pro and fucks like he was born to do it.  

There’s actually very little in this world that Jinyoung prefers to the sensation of Jaebum’s pretty, pink mouth stretched around him, tongue working it’s mind blowing magic as Jinyoung tries desperately not to fall apart beneath him.

 

He pulls on Jaebum’s hair harshly to guide him further down his shaft and lets out a sob as he brushes the back of Jaebum’s throat. That’s another thing— Jaebum’s inexplicable ability to control his gag reflex. Fuck, whoever ended up with Jaebum was going to be the luckiest person on the damn planet.

He pushes away the thought as Jaebum pulls off with an obscene ‘pop’, lips coated in saliva and Jinyoung wants to cry at how good he looks like this, on his knees with a trickle of precome on his chin.

 

“Suck,” Jaebum rasps, holding a hand up to Jinyoung’s mouth and Jinyoung dutifully takes the digits in and sucks on them, lapping at Jaebum’s fingers like they’re his favourite flavour of ice cream. Jaebum gets back to working his dick, tonguing the base deliciously, and Jinyoung starts to wonder how much longer he can last like this.

Thankfully, just before he’s about to say something to save himself the trouble of an early finish, Jaebum stands up and takes his fingers out of Jinyoung’s mouth.

“Turn around,” He orders and Jinyoung does as he’s told, hands braced against the door to support himself. He squirms slightly as Jaebum circles his hole with a slick finger before slowly pushing in all the way. Jinyoung’s breath catches and he hears Jaebum chuckle quietly, breathily.

“You’ve gotta be quieter this time Jinyoungie, this is a public bathroom. Anyone could come in and catch us.” His voice is a goading whisper as he slips in a second finger, causing Jinyoung to wince very slightly at the burn.

 

They can still hear the music through the walls but it’s much duller, a faint, tinny backing track to the sound of Jinyoung’s groans as Jaebum stretches him open, fucking him with 3 fingers now.

“I’m fine, can you just fuck me already?” Jinyoung whines and Jaebum chuckles hotly at him.

“Wow, somebody’s desperate for my dick.” He teases as he shucks his own jeans down to his knees and tears open the condom packet with his teeth.

“Honestly I don’t care whose dick it is I just want it in me, okay?” Jinyoung complains as he peers over his shoulder to see Jaebum rolling the condom on, dick twitching in anticipation.

“I love it when you talk slutty.” Jaebum sighs and rips open the lube sachet, squirting it into his hand before slathering it onto his aching erection.

“Yeah, yeah, just fuck me, god.” Jinyoung’s never felt more needy than he does right now, his hormones out of whack and his cock dripping with precome.

 

Jaebum drags the tip of his dick across Jinyoung’s hole, distributing some of the lube, before pushing into him in one go.

“Fuck,” Jinyoung hisses, resting his forehead against the door. Jaebum leans in and ghosts his lips over the base of Jinyoung’s neck, trailing a hand round to his stomach and sliding it up his shirt.

“Tell me if you want me to take it easy, ok?” Jaebum mumbles as he pulls out and thrusts back in, earning another filthy, kitten-like mewl from Jinyoung. His mouth falls open, all gasps and sighs and he brings his arm up against the door to rest his head on.

“It’s fine, keep moving.”

 

Jaebum’s fingers find their way to Jinyoung’s nipples and he pinches them to distract Jinyoung from the discomfort as he rolls up into him, other hand steadying Jinyoung’s hips.

“Shit, Jaebum…” Jinyoung gasps as the pace quickens and he starts to feel jolts of pleasure surging through him, all of the blood in his body concentrated at opposite ends.

Jaebum starts to fuck him a little harder, a little faster, and there’s a certain tension lingering in the air that Jinyoung doesn’t understand. Everything is made clearer, though, when Jaebum presses forwards and whispers into his ear.

“Did you enjoy grinding against that guy earlier?”

_Oh. That explains it._

Jinyoung tugs his lip into his mouth and nods, eyes falling shut.

“Did you actually like it? Or did you like that I was watching you?” Jaebum prompts.

Jinyoung swallows guiltily at the lust and possessiveness punctuating the question, hips jumping as Jaebum hits his sweet spot.

“I sleep with other people all the time, what’s it to you if I—ah!—dance with someone else?” He replies in an attempt to act coy, but the rude moan that interrupts him mid sentence is a dead giveaway.

“Don’t try that on me Jinyoung,” Jaebum growls, hand making it’s way gracefully from Jinyoung’s hipbone to the base of his hair. He tugs on it, hard, and draws Jinyoung’s head back until the wide expanse of his throat is pulled taught and open for the taking. “I know you like winding me up, just so I’ll fuck you that much harder.”

 

Jinyoung can’t help the string of curses that tumble out of his mouth, their coherency dead on his tongue as Jaebum rocks into him over and over and over, mind-numbingly well.

“Do they fuck you like I do?” Jaebum snarls against hot skin, mouth sucking harsh, purpling bruises up his neck.

Jinyoung can sense himself losing all rationality, the feeling of being filled by Jaebum taking over his body, driving him insane. The noises leaving him at this point sound absolutely pornographic and he knows he’s just as red as his lips are glossy.

“Answer the question.” Jaebum pants demandingly, other hand coming up to capture Jinyoung’s chin in a fierce grip. Jinyoung absolutely loves it when Jaebum gets like this, possessive and dominant and willing to do anything to make him come, so long as it’s Jaebum’s name on his lips.

“No, they don’t,” He shudders and shakes his head, basking in the sound of skin on skin. “You’re— you fuck me the best.”

He manages to get the words out before he’s choking on his own pleasure, tears now pricking his eyes as Jaebum hits his prostate with almost every other jerk of his hips. Jaebum grabs Jinyoung’s neglected cock and starts to stroke him in time with his thrusts, matching the pace pretty evenly.

 

Everything feels heightened by the drugs and Jinyoung has never wanted to come more desperately in his life, mindless whimpers bubbling up in his throat, sweat dripping from his brow.

“You’re mine, Jinyoung.” Jaebum murmurs and it’s strikingly soft in comparison, moderately chapped lips brushing against Jinyoung’s ear. “Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.”

He punctuates every roll of his hips with the word, breath aimless and hot where it curls against Jinyoung’s skin. He’s used to Jaebum getting possessive and jealous, it’s an expected trait from a prideful and somewhat insecure guy who’s never been good at sharing, but he’s never really been like _this_.

There’s just something about Jaebum’s tone that resonates within him, something that isn’t purely driven by lust and selfishness, and the goosebumps stippling his arms and legs are proof enough.

Jinyoung files it away in his mind to think about later, if at all.

 

He feels the familiar warmth pool in his gut and gasps out a quick “m’close”, voiced wrecked and scratchy.

Jaebum quickens his pace but slows his hand, teasing Jinyoung with leisurely drags up and down. The contrast is maddening and Jinyoung is so close to finishing, pressing back to meet Jaebum half way on every jerk of his hips.

 

All of a sudden, the door to the bathroom creaks open, the loud thrum of house music surging in from outside, and Jaebum instinctively slaps his hand over Jinyoung’s mouth. They’ve stopped moving and hell, Jinyoung thinks he’s stopped breathing.

Whoever had entered the bathroom takes the stall a couple of doors down and whistles loudly to themselves, unaware of filth going on only a few meters away. Jinyoung startles when he feels Jaebum’s hand start to pick up again, stroking him sensually and with a practised finesse. His eyes widen and he glances back at Jaebum who grins wildly in return, other hand still cupping Jinyoung’s mouth to stop any accidental wanton noises escaping.

The whistling continues and Jinyoung can’t believe that this is happening. Just the idea that a poor, unknowing clubber is completely blind to their activities, to the fact that Jinyoung still has Jaebum’s dick buried deep in his ass, is enough to send him over the edge. He comes undone in Jaebum’s hand, fingers curling against the cubicle wall as silent moans die in his throat and he mouths Jaebum’s name against the older boy’s palm.

 

Jaebum takes his soiled hand back and holds it up to Jinyoung’s mouth, daring him to clean it off for him. Jinyoung, completely smitten and fully sated, drags his tongue along Jaebum’s digits, sucking them clean as Jaebum watches in awe.

Jinyoung’s hair is stuck to his forehead, slick and damped down with sweat, and his pink face is cuter than Jaebum ever remembers it being. He licks Jaebum’s fingers until they’re practically spotless and Jaebum does his best to suppress the groan that’s been sitting at the base of his throat the entire evening. Jinyoung looks like every wet dream Jaebum’s ever had right now and it’s hard to ignore the way his dick jumps inside Jinyoung’s heat, eyes roaming across the scape of bruised flesh and sweaty _want_.

He almost says ‘you’re incredible’ out loud but stops himself short, remembering their joyful neighbours presence just in time.

 

The person occupying the stall flushes and they hear the door swing open, whistle still going strong. Once the tap shuts off there’s a pause, before the bathroom is briefly washed with noise yet again, and it’s safe for them to assume that they’re alone.

 

“Turn around, I want to see you.” Jaebum orders as he pulls out of Jinyoung and watches him.

Jinyoung turns to face Jaebum, eyes clouded with exhaustion and burnt-out lust, pupils still wide as hell, and Jaebum’s surprised he doesn’t just come then and there.

“I didn’t know you were such a little exhibitionist.” He comments as he brings his hands round to the curve of Jinyoung’s ass and hoists him up, Jinyoung wrapping his legs around Jaebum’s waist like it’s second nature.

Jinyoung grips onto Jaebum’s biceps for extra support and leans in to kiss him senseless and Jaebum can taste him on his lips, the experience sending shockwaves through his veins and up his spine.

 

He lines himself up and pushes into Jinyoung again, nose sidling up against Jinyoung’s as the younger whimpers at the intrusion, his nerve endings hypersensitive and on fire.

“You’ve been so good, baby.” He murmurs against Jinyoung’s cupid's bow and smiles when he notices Jinyoung bite his lip at the petname, eyes watery.

“Just… fuck me… please,” He begs and it’s all the encouragement Jaebum needs to drive into him, fucking him with reckless abandon until his hips stutter and his strokes become messy and he’s spilling into the condom as though his life depends on it.

He comes with a drawn out moan, Jinyoung’s name falling from his lips like a prayer and thinks he might just die from the way his heart is racing.

It’s one of the best orgasms he’s ever had and he think he just might die as Jinyoung beams at him and presses a kiss to the straight line of his nose, the two of them sweaty and disgusting.

Jaebum pulls out and sets him back on his legs, trying not to laugh at the way Jinyoung’s knees wobble and almost give out on him. He ties off the condom and chucks it into the bin before pulling up his underwear and shimmying into his jeans again.

 

They don’t leave the stall until they both look at least a little bit presentable, and they wash their hands side by side in silence.

As they’re about the revisit the world of the living, Jaebum’s hand wrapped around the door’s handlebar, Jinyoung reaches out for Jaebum’s arm and shuts his eyes.

“We just had sex in a public bathroom.” He states, like he needs to verbalise it to believe it.

Jaebum simply grins and places his hand over Jinyoung’s, skin soft to the touch.

“Yep. And you loved every second of it.”

 

VIII.

Jinyoung hardly sleeps that night, tossing and turning through the mess of soft fabric and unnecessary throw pillows, trying to find the right position, the right temperature. He can still smell Jaebum on his sheets and he really wishes he’d changed them before going to bed— maybe then he would’ve salvaged at least a few hours of sleep.

Jaebum’s voice is on repeat in his head like a broken record, the words _‘you’re mine’_ repeating themselves like a mantra until he wants to drill through his own skull, hands clasping desperately at his hair.

If this is what infatuation feels like then he’s got to put some distance between the two of them before it goes too far, and one of them (namely Jinyoung) gets hurt.

He’s always been terrible at controlling his stupid feelings, and maybe reading sappy romance novels in the back of Jaebum’s car at the start of college had filled his head with too many ideas. Then again, Jaebum liked reading them too, though he was loathe to admit it for fear of damaging his ‘image’, as if he ever had one.

Jinyoung catches himself just as he senses an oncoming smile and quickly dismisses the thoughts.

Falling for your best friend may seem romantic when it’s printed on paper but in real life it’s a messy, messy business that rarely ends well.

 

He kicks the covers onto the floor and groans in frustration, balling his hands in his pillow as he screws his eyes shut, begging for sleep to take him.

A couple of hours later, while the rising sun is filtering in through the crack in the curtains, the soft sounds of Jinyoung’s snores reverberate throughout his apartment.

And then; the buzz of a phone.


	2. two

IX.

“Have you noticed the kids acting weirdly recently?” Jackson asks as he stirs his packet of sweetener into his lukewarm coffee, hunched over the table with the flair of somebody who had too much to drink last night.

Jinyoung shakes his head as he rubs his temple, stuffing his face with a butter croissant and half-listening to what Jackson’s saying.

“Haven’t seen them since last night.” He says through a mouthful of crumbs, smiling apologetically as some of it flies out in Jackson’s direction.

“Yah, don’t talk when your mouth is full,” Jackson chastises before continuing with his line of conversation. “Anyway, they seem kinda… off, to me.” 

Jinyoung whines at the back of his throat, food now effectively swallowed.

“Did you actually get me up at ass o’clock in the morning just to ask me about the maknaes?” 

Jackson huffs indignantly and sips his coffee like a child throwing a very mild tantrum.

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.”

Jackson’s voice is laced with something that Jinyoung can’t quite pick out, but he knows it’s significantly more serious than the one usually adopted by the older boy, and it worries him.

“What’s up?” He inquires, now paying full attention. Jackson takes note of the concern in his voice.

“It’s about Mark,” Jackson starts and Jinyoung furrows his brows. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before continuing. “And Youngjae.”

 

Jinyoung lowers his eyes and fiddles with the straw poking out of his drink.

“Look, before you say I’m crazy—” Jackson’s cut off by Jinyoung immediately.

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I get it. They have a history, you’re not officially together, anybody rational would have concerns.” He shrugs and Jackson blinks at him, stunned by the response he honestly hadn’t been expecting.

Jackson’s not stupid though, he knows Jinyoung speaks the words with a precision that can only mean he’s talking from experience. He’s not new to Jinyoung and Jaebum’s relationship, he’s seen them through their ups and downs, but he decides not to open that can of worms. Not today.

“So do you think there’s something going on there?” He prompts, gnawing on his bottom lip anxiously as he drums his fingers along the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup.

“Personally? No. I know Mark and I just don’t think he’d do that.” Jinyoung assures him but it’s a little more biting than intended and Jackson frowns.

“I know Mark too, Jinyoung. Just because I’m not the one he confessed to in 7th grade doesn’t mean we haven’t been friends for more than a decade.” He spits back and Jinyoung lets out a rueful sigh.

“Jacks, I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.” He reaches out a hand and rests it on Jackson’s forearm, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Sorry,” Jackson mumbles and Jinyoung smiles at his familiar pout, crows feet tugging at the corners of his eyes. 

“It’s cool, don’t sweat it. You know I just want you to be happy, right? I think you should talk to Mark about it. And for the love of god, please don’t let it eat you up inside.” 

 

Jackson nods and then he’s chuckling to himself, raising Jinyoung’s curiosity, something he conveys easily with a single look.

“I just realised that we always have these.. _dates,_ when both of us are feeling pretty fucking miserable.” Jackson explains and Jinyoung momentarily thinks back to the times when they’d go out and mope together, never-to-be-repeated words exchanged over the clink of a beer bottle. What can he say? Misery loves company and three makes it a crowd.

A lot of people assumed he and Jackson weren’t particularly close in high school and college, lumping the two with Jaebum and Mark respectively, but Jinyoung had shared more tears with Jackson than he had with anyone else.

He had been there to see Jackson sob into his sweatshirt after losing a fencing tournament and in turn Jackson had witnessed him punch a tree over prom dates. Most things between them go unspoken but Jinyoung values Jackson more than he’d probably ever admit. He surmises that they’re both too proud for that.

 

“Drink your coffee before it gets cold.” He instructs and Jackson grins lopsidedly.

“Too late.”

 

X.

Jaebum loves it when people get a little dominant with him sometimes, sick of constantly being expected to hold up on the controlling end of sexual situations purely because of his stature and image. Sure, he often likes being in control and he’s not opposed to dominating, but it gets boring. Plain and simple.

Which is exactly why his dick twitches against the fabric of his jeans as Jiyeon guides him with fistfuls of his hair as he eats her out, using him for her own satisfaction. He’s only hooked up with her once or twice before but she’s a good lay and, most importantly, she doesn’t get attached. 

 

He tries to ignore it but he knows that at the back of his mind he’s comparing her to Jinyoung, wondering if she’d ever go as far as to hook up with him in a public toilet at a club, or if she’d stick around for pillow talk afterwards. Curious about whether her body bends in the same way or if she’s as into dirty talk as he is.

He also knows that it’s unfair, that she’s only in this for his body, that she’s a different person to Jinyoung with a different place in his life. He doesn’t know when he started doing that, though— comparing people to Jinyoung. 

Maybe it’s just because after years of sleeping together Jinyoung’s become pretty accustomed to what he likes, knows all his kinks and sweet spots like the back of his hand. They’ve had their fair share of dry spells too, granted, but they always end up crawling back to bed together.

It’s food for thought but for now he tries to focus on making Jiyeon come with stars in her eyes.

XI.

“Hey Mark, I bought this super cool strawberry lube cause I know you love straw— Oh, hi Jinyoung.” Jackson smiles embarrassedly as he walks in on the scene before him, Jinyoung sprawled out across Mark on the couch, a new drama playing on TV.

Jinyoung looks at Mark, who’s trying to hide his mortification, with an amused look and quirks a brow. “Strawberry, Mark? Really?” 

Mark bursts into complaints and protests, trying (and failing) to argue with Jinyoung and defend himself. They’re both too caught up in their fun to notice the way Jackson eyes them, studies Mark’s hand placed uncarefully on Jinyoung’s arm. 

He’s being stupid again—possessive, over-protective, tired of the uncertainty his relationship with Mark provides. He knows Jinyoung doesn’t like Mark that way, or at least he thinks he doesn’t, but he can’t get it out of his head.

 

He remembers the day he first met Mark clearly. It’d been in his first year of high school and he’d just transferred from Hong Kong, not too great at speaking Korean. He could communicate enough to hold a basic conversation with somebody but making friends was… considerably harder, even with his outgoing personality.

That’s why he’d been so relieved the moment Mark approached him, speaking in Chinese. It had felt like a god send at the time, to have a person he could actually talk to and in turn understand.  And then he discovered Mark also knew English fluently, a product of his family moving back and forth between Korea and LA, which was considerably useful when Jinyoung’s English abilities didn’t extend as far. 

Eventually he’d been adopted into their whole friendship group, through Mark obviously, and he could safely say he enjoyed going to school for the first time in years.

Then, of course, he’d had to fuck everything up by falling in love with Mark. 

 

He hadn’t really noticed it until he’d heard Wonpil, one of Jinyoung’s friends, recounting the story of how Mark had confessed to Jinyoung in 7th grade. It took him days to figure out why he had a weird constricting feeling in his chest as he listened to Jinyoung laughingly describe how Mark pulled him aside with pink cheeks and told him he wanted to kiss him. It’d been like a rat gnawing at him from the inside, scratching at the base of his stomach every time he saw Jinyoung and Mark together. He hated it.

And from then on out his crush had only gotten worse. He loved Mark’s laugh, the way he simply observed without speaking, the way he focused in maths lessons but zoned out in literature. Everything about him was suddenly ten times more endearing, his lips and clavicle and arms during gym also ten times more distracting. 

 

It had been approaching Valentine’s Day when he’d slowly worked up the courage to tell him, to slip him a handwritten confession note in fear of face-to-face rejection. That was, until Mark called him three days before the 14th to gush over the phone about how Youngjae had asked him out on a date and how Youngjae was so sweet and thoughtful.

It had honestly been one of the hardest things he’d ever dealt with, trying to be happy for his friends but finding his heart aching pathetically whenever the couple were around him, like somebody had just stabbed him and was twisting the knife with every ring of Youngjae’s infectiously loud laugh. 

And obviously, he’d tried to move on, bury his feelings and find somebody else to love, someone who would love him too, but it seemed impossible to get Mark out of his head. 

 

He still has one particular memory of kissing Jaebum while drunk out of his mind at a party, right in front of Mark (who had at the time being draped over Youngjae on an armchair). It’d ended with Jaebum pushing him off, not angry just surprised, and Jinyoung ignoring him for a week straight afterwards. That had been a pain in the ass. 

He hadn’t really been sure of what he’d hoped it would achieve, it’s not like Mark was going to realise he’d been in love with Jackson the whole time and dump Youngjae the moment he saw their lips touch. But drunk Jackson rarely made any sense.

 

Surprisingly, though, he hadn’t been drunk when he’d turned down an offer from the university of his dreams, hell bent on attending higher education with Mark. It’d been an impulsive decision made on a whim, but Jackson’s stomach had flipped the moment he told Mark and the other burst into smiles, arms flung around him in a flurry of elation and glee. Not his proudest moment, no, but he was still equipped with a good degree and a throng of close friends to top it. 

He also remembers when Mark and Youngjae had broken up. It’d been mutual and pretty amicable too but Mark had ended up at Jackson’s door, clearly more upset than he’d initially let on. He’d slept over for a few days and that basically triggered a series of lunch dates and impromptu drama marathons, which ultimately lead to the two of them spending inordinate amounts of time together.

 

Before that Jackson had truly believed he could not be more in love with Mark Tuan if he tried, but boy was he wrong. He fell in love with Mark a little more every day and when the time came for their first kiss, it hadn’t even been under the influence. They’d both been stone cold sober. 

That’s just what a little close proximity does, fuels the flames of underlying sexual tension and not fully healed broken hearts. They’d kissed for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes worth of time, hands buried in hair and lingering at the foot of loose shirts. Since then Jackson had been a little uncertain of their relationship status. 

They’d started sleeping together a few months later, after an awkward period of are-they-or-aren’t-they, something neither Mark nor Jackson could really answer. They’d never made anything official, never labelled their hangouts as dates or each other as boyfriends. Jackson didn’t want to bring it up in fear of ruining whatever it was they had. 

 

But it’s time likes this, when Mark is wrapped around someone else, that Jackson wishes they were both braver. Wishes his heart wasn’t so sickeningly jealous and that Mark didn’t have such a tight grip on it. So it’s times like this where he thinks back to the moment Mark told him he loved him and hopes, prays, that it’s enough because it’s all he has to hold onto.

 

XII.

Jinyoung watches his shoe laces jump, muddied hemp fabric swinging back and forth with every bounce of his knee as he sits waiting for the bus. His phone pings with the alert of a new message and his eyes flutter to the screen pretty instantaneously.

**_Jaebummie sent you a picture_ **

He raises an eyebrow cautiously as he opens the message, no stranger to the odd dick pic from Jaebum now and then (what? sometimes he gets horny and Jinyoung’s hardly complaining).

It’s not a dick pic though, it’s a photo of Jaebum’s neck and it’s littered with bruises, splotches of deep red and harsh purple blossoming at the base of his throat, leading all the way up to his jawline. It’s accompanied by a text.

**_Check out the nasty hickies Jiyeon gave me, these are gonna be impossible to hide jfc_ **

Jinyoung swallows. He’s never met Jiyeon but he’s seen pictures of her before, ones Jaebum had shown him (and ones from her Facebook after Jinyoung had stalked her online for a good 40 minutes). She’s pretty, has similar eyes to Jinyoung but they’re more attractive, more feline and delicate. Everything about her is more desirable, really, from her long legs to her perfect hair, Jinyoung’s slightly surprised Jaebum hasn’t asked her out yet.

He glances down at the glaring reply box, keyboard begging him to type out a half assed response.

**_woah_ **

**_lol good luck w that_ **

He locks his phone and puts it on silence.

 

XIII.

The rain splatters against the canopy, trickling down through the hole at the far end as Youngjae stands outside the restaurant, cigarette balanced in one hand as he scrolls through his phone.  It’s starting to get cooler and the darkening sky is beginning to shift from a pale blue to a dull grey, clouds discreet and far apart. He’s only got about 10 more minutes before the end of his break and the last thing he wants to do is get back to his shift, serving cheap food to ungrateful customers, surrounded by the scent of aniseed and sweet and sour sauce. 

He didn’t used to be much of a smoker, still isn’t really, but he’d picked up the habit somewhere along the line. Financial stress packed with a group of addicts as friends has always been a surefire way to get hooked on something. He likes to enjoy the odd smoke on work breaks to calm his nerves, to cool down the jitters as he studies the shop fronts and pedestrians and bicycles. 

Today, however, his efforts are wasted on pointless texts to Yugyeom, none of which seem to be receiving any response.

**_Please talk to him Yugy, he’s really down and he won’t tell me what’s up_ **

**_Stop ignoring me, please_ **

**_Listen rooming with him is hard enough on good days, I can’t take him when he’s like this_ **

**_Fine, don’t reply, but you’re never gonna help Bambam this way_ **

He sighs frustratedly as he shoves his phone back into the pocket his apron and takes one last drag, tossing the leftover, gleaming stub to the side in a fit of chagrin. 

Why the fuck do all of his friends act like children?!

 

He looks up to watch the drizzle topple from high skyscrapers, down onto the umbrellas of city folk, and ponders what life might’ve been like if he’d moved away. 

It was too gutsy of a decision to make at the time and he’d never dealt with change well anyway. Besides— he had a boyfriend at the time, and a good university offer that didn’t require travelling halfway across the country. Still; he likes to entertain the thought. 

He strolls over to where the remains of his cigarette had hit the floor and picks it up cautiously before chucking it in the trash can. 

 

With one last breath of brisk, fresh air, he steps back inside the restaurant and doesn’t wait up for the door to land on the back of his ankles. 

 

XIV.

Jinyoung’s heart flutters at the way Jimin’s breath falls against his neck, like a small puff of warmth emitted from a chimney in winter. Jimin’s straddling his hips and smiling at him with the cutest fucking smile in the world, eyes crinkled similarly to the way Jinyoung’s do when he laughs, and Jinyoung feels dizzy.

“You’re really cute.” He giggles as Jinyoung’s breath catches in his throat, eyes wandering across the plains of Jinyoung’s body. His mind goes numb as Jimin’s hands roam from his shoulders to his chest, down and down until they come to a pit stop at his crotch. 

A strangled groan leaves Jinyoung’s lips and it’s embarrassing but Jimin seems to take it as encouragement because he grinds down a little, pressing their bodies flush together and Jinyoung thinks he might just see stars.

“Fuck…” He murmurs.

 

When he’d picked Jimin up at the bar he hadn’t been exactly sure how it would go, whether they’d even get beyond wine glasses and small talk. Jimin’s smile is glorious and Jinyoung’s pretty sure his laugh stems directly from heaven, and he’s so different to Jinyoung’s usual ~type~ that it makes it hard for him to compare.

Where other guys Jinyoung’s slept with, Jaebum for example, are all sharp lines and rough edges, Jimin is made of muted curves and stardust. Instead of broad shoulders and rugged jawlines he finds soft thighs and plump lips. 

It awakens a different kind of arousal deep within him and a small, nagging part of his brain thinks it’s because he’s grown so used to Jaebum that it sends a jolt of excitement through him at the prospect of something new. He needs a fix, a way to get over his best friend, and this is exactly it.

 

Jimin leans down and presses his mouth to Jinyoung’s, lips curling into a smile as he slips his tongue in, deepening it.  They’re kissing and dry fucking until Jinyoung can’t breathe and he gets his fingers through Jimin’s belt loops, incredibly desperate now.

“Jinyoung, I have to tell you something,” Jimin pants with a frown and Jinyoung groans internally. Has he got an infection? Are there no condoms in this entire place? What if he’s secretly a huge sadist—

“I have a boyfriend.”

 

_Well that’s a shock._ Jinyoung must let his confusion show on his face because Jimin stops biting his lip to explain. 

“We’re going through a rough patch, I wasn’t going to tell you but I thought I probably should. I just, I really like you and I think you’re really hot so I thought maybe it wouldn’t be an issue.. but, you can still back out if you want to.”

Jinyoung thinks about it for a moment. Jimin’s voice is so soft and he wants, no,  _ needs  _ to know what it sounds like when he’s begging to come. He bets he moans like a kitten, his whimpers teaming with filth, similar to Jinyoung’s own noises honestly. It’s a tug of war decision, his morals versus his libido, and for once he’s sick of putting other people before him. 

He gives into his urges and tugs Jimin down for another kiss, lips devouring Jimin’s in a flurry of passion and animalistic impulse.

Deep, deep down he knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be sleeping with someone who’s taken, but he puts his thoughts on hold and just goes with it. Consequences be damned.

 

XV.

About a week later, Jackson spots Mark and Youngjae through the window of a shop, sat comfortably opposite each other on one of the large, wooden tables. It’s a haberdashery cafe, shelves stuffed to the brim with bright fabrics and boxes of buttons, and there are plates of homemade hazelnut brownies splayed out on the counter.

Jackson remembers taking Mark here once, a few months back, per Mark’s request. He seemed to like it an awful lot, desperate to share his special place with Jackson.

Seems Jackson’s not the only person he likes to bring with him.

 

And the ugly, green monster is back, filling his veins with sludge and his mind with fog. He shouldn’t let it control him like this. He knows Mark’s better than that, that it’s unfair to keep holding him accountable to promises he’s never made and accusing him of crimes he may well not have committed. 

But he has, undeniably, been spending more and more time with Youngjae recently and it’s starting to grate on Jackson’s nerves every time Mark cancels on him for work, or rain checks their weekend lie-ins. 

It’s like he has time for Youngjae but not for him, high school all over again.

With one last look at the pair sat chatting happily, he walks on. 

 

XVI.

Jinyoung turns around mid-conversation as he feels someone tap his shoulder with a sturdy jab, his eyes falling to a guy only very slightly shorter than himself. His hair is dyed pastel green and he looks seriously  _ pissed off _ .

“You Jinyoung?” The guy asks, folding his arms in a way that is oddly threatening, and Jinyoung notices some kind of tension build in the base of his throat. What could this dude possibly want with him?

“Yeah, why?” 

He notices the man before him clench his teeth, lip twitching a little and Jinyoung is sure he’s not going to like what comes next.

“I’m Min Yoongi. Did you by any chance happen to sleep with my boyfriend? Jimin?” 

_ Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. _

 

Jinyoung pales and clearly the looks of guilt and panic on his face are enough of a reason for the man—Yoongi—to grab him by the collar. He spills his drink as Yoongi pulls back an arm with fisted hands and he shuts his eyes, waiting for the hit. But it doesn’t come.

Instead, the grip on his shirt vanishes and hears the sound of skin on skin contact, followed by a collective gasp from fellow bar-goers. 

The moment he opens his eyes, he’s greeted with the sight of Jaebum looming over Yoongi, fists clenched at his sides as Yoongi pulls himself up from the floor, blood trickling from his lip. Jinyoung swallows and hears a faint ringing in his ears. He swings at Jaebum, who tries to dodge, and manages to catch him on the jaw. It sends Jaebum staggering backwards a little and his hand moves to hold his face. He seems to step forward and say something to Yoongi, which leads to him barging past, their shoulders making contact as he storms out of the bar, eyes trailing after. 

The noise level returns to normal and Jinyoung’s zoning out, everything blurry and dull in his mind’s eye. He wants to throw up, wants to slap himself for being so careless, when Jaebum taps him on the arm in the same spot Yoongi did only minutes ago.

“Hey, let’s go home.”


	3. three

XVII.

“Why did you hit him?” Jinyoung demands crossly, running a weary hand through his hair.

“He said you slept with his boyfriend.” Jaebum answers, hand cradling his bruised jaw like it barely even hurts. He doesn’t address the envy and high dudgeon that threads its way through his gut just at the idea of Jinyoung in bed with somebody else’s boyfriend.

“So?” Jinyoung gulps, an inkling of dread tingling at the edges of his mind. This isn’t going to go well. Fuck,  _ fuck.  _

“I punched him because I knew you wouldn’t do that. He can’t just badmouth innocent people, let alone my friends.” Jaebum states, like it’s obvious.

 

Jinyoung knows Jaebum sees the flicker of guilt that graces his face and his stomach furls in on itself as Jaebum’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“Oh god, Jinyoung, you didn’t…” There’s a sliver of hope in Jaebum’s voice and Jinyoung feels like he’s been socked in the chest, winded. He’s always hated being the bearer of bad news.

“I—” He attempts to defend himself but any proclamations of innocence fall flat on his tongue and instead he rubs a hand over his face, trying to avoid the searing burn of Jaebum’s glare.

“Why would you do that? Why would you help somebody else cheat?!” 

Jaebum’s voice is rough and raw and Jinyoung wants to wallow in a pit of guilt and self-hatred before he comes close to confronting Jaebum’s feelings about this.

“I didn’t know he had a boyfriend at first,” He explains, the words too hurried, too rushed.

“But?” Jaebum prompts, his jaw clenched and tense where Jinyoung spots the muscle jutting out.

“He told me just before we…” Jinyoung trails off, he knows Jaebum can fill in the blank. “Anyway, he admitted he had a boyfriend and… it didn’t stop me.” 

Jaebum looks at Jinyoung with so much sorrow in his eyes that it hurts, it fucking hurts that his  _ best friend _ is looking down on him.

“Why would you do that? You know how much cheating hurts people!” 

Jinyoung bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood and his eyes fall to the floor. And clearly it does draw blood because his mouth is flooded with the tangy taste of metal and he feels dizzy all over again.

 

“I can’t believe you.” Jaebum mutters under his breath and it sparks something inside Jinyoung, a small shard of anger.

“Hey, it’s not like  _ I  _ cheated on somebody.” He protests and Jaebum meets his eyes with fire.

“You helped somebody cheat, Jinyoung, it doesn’t fucking matter.”

“It’s not my responsibility to make sure other people are faithful—”

“ _ You’ve _ never been cheated on. You’re not the one with the right to talk.” Jaebum shouts, voice thundering all of a sudden, and it catches Jinyoung off guard. He knows what Jaebum’s implying, that he’s somehow just as bad as the girl who left Jaebum broken hearted, and Jinyoung’s not gonna fucking stand for it.

“I’m also not the one who cheated on you because you were a shit boyfriend, either.” He spits and Jaebum’s face falls instantly, dog-like snarl retreating. There’s a sick sense of satisfaction pooling in Jinyoung’s gut at the way Jaebum’s eyes flash with hurt and he hates that they’re doing this, fighting  _ again.  _

Mark did always say they bickered more than a married couple. He briefly recalls the incident where Jaebum had made out with the boy Jinyoung had been crushing on for years, resulting in a spell of no communication for 2 weeks straight.  

 

“Wow,” Jaebum chuckles breathlessly but it’s not a happy chuckle, nor is it humourous. It’s bitter and filled with malice. “Low blow,  _ Jinyoungie. _ ”

The nickname isn’t affectionate this time, it rings loudly with spite and indignation and Jinyoung’s never wanted to punch Jaebum in the face more than he does right now.

“Look, as much as you’d love to blame the dude your girlfriend fucked for seducing her or whatever, she cheated on you of her own volition, Jaebum!” He explains and he sees Jaebum’s jaw twitch, a telltale sign that he’s beyond mad.

“If that’s really what you thought then why didn’t you say anything? You let me crash at yours for  _ weeks  _ after we broke up, and now it turns out you were never even on my side?!” Jaebum yells.  “Cheaters disgust me, people who help them disgust me,  _ you disgust me. _ ” 

Jaebum’s always had a short fuse and Jinyoung’s always been a bit too provocative to make it work despite having the patience of a nursery school teacher, but Jinyoung’s also never heard Jaebum’s voice like this before. The three words are so venomous, so incredibly toxic that Jinyoung feels sick simply hearing them. It’s like a kick to the stomach.

“I just wanted to feel loved! Stop acting so fucking high and mighty, you insufferable dipshit, stop acting like you’ve never broken anyone’s heart or done anything wrong!” Jinyoung yells right back at him, but it’s lackluster by comparison, his heart aching too much to do any real damage.

 

Suddenly all the memories come surging back, inundating him with recollections of how Jaebum had hurt him in so many unseeable ways, without even realising it.

“Oh, when have I ever—”

Jinyoung cuts him off.

“School dance, senior year, you agreed to go with me as friends.” His voice is so much quieter than before and Jaebum blinks at him wordlessly. “You ditched me in the parking lot just before we went in, ‘cause you found some hot girl who was desperate to go with you.” 

Jaebum stares at him and Jinyoung tries not to choke under the sweltering gaze.

“You didn’t even take one fucking minute to think about how I’d feel. I spent the entire dance at the side, alone. Did you even notice when I went home early? How about when you didn’t show up to my theatre performance even though I saved you a ticket? Or the time I had to walk home drunk at 3 in the morning, by myself, because you left me behind?” He drills the memories into the open and there’s a traitorous wobble to his voice that suggests he’s been keeping this inside for too long. 

He looks up at Jaebum with pathetically wet eyes and just wants to disappear. He hates this, he hates this so much.

“Jinyoung…” Jaebum starts but his words fail him and Jinyoung laughs sadly, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Save it, Jaebum.” He leers, watching him with tired eyes. “Wouldn’t want to damage your perfect reputation with a forced apology for little old me. Sorry I disgust you, but don’t worry, I won’t bother you ever a-fucking-gain!” 

 

Jinyoung grabs his coat off the back of the couch and Jaebum panics.

“Jinyoung, please,” He pleads but Jinyoung isn’t listening.

“I can find anyone to replace you, Jaebum, you aren’t special. So don’t you dare treat me like I’m less than you.” He hisses in return.

Jaebum watches in horror, with his heart in his throat, as Jinyoung turns to leave. He wants to say something, wants to equal parts apologise and shout at Jinyoung for being so fucking stupid, but his mouth is dry and nothing comes out. Jinyoung slams the door behind him and Jaebum feels it in his chest.

 

XVIII.

“So I saw you and Youngjae at lunch.” Jackson comments from where he’s leaning against Mark’s cooker, arms crossed defensively over his chest. He mentally wonders if doing this is worth it, but he  _ needs  _ to know, for his own peace of mind.

Mark doesn’t look up from his iPad as he nods dismissively, humming in acknowledgement.

“Looked pretty cozy.”

His eyes remain glued to the screen and Jackson taps his fingers in vexation. 

“Kinda like a date.” 

Mark's apathetic appearance falters and he puts his iPad down, looking at Jackson properly now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jackson nods like he’s digesting the question, but really, he’s already got an answer lined up.

“Nothing. I was just wondering if you’d tell me if you and Youngjae had something going on.” 

Mark scoffs in disbelief, eyebrows arching as his face is graced with an incredulous frown.

“Are you actually kidding me right now?”

“It’s not like you can blame me when you and Youngjae are the closest you’ve been since you broke up. I mean, you won’t even talk about what  _ this  _ is, whenever I bring it up you change the subject.”

 

Mark sighs, dog-tired, and rubs at his eyes with balled fists.

“Don’t do this now, Jackson.”

Jackson bites his tongue as frustration froths up inside him. He’s  _ not  _ the villain in this situation.

“Then when would you like me to do it, Mark? I’m sick of dancing around you and Youngjae, trying to keep you both happy while I’m fucking dying inside.” 

Mark looks up at him with red rimmed eyes and Jackson spots the irritated flare of his nostrils. 

“Stop being so jealous. There’s nothing going on between me and Youngjae, that was in the past. You  _ know  _ that.”

Jackson narrows his eyes skeptically.

“Do I?”

 

“I can’t believe you.” Mark shakes his head in disbelief as he stands up, pushing his chair in.  “What do you want from me Jackson? I tell you the truth, you don’t listen to me. I tell you a lie, you get angry. What do you want to hear?”

“Don’t act like I’m the villain here. You’ve been hanging out with Youngjae constantly the past few weeks, and whenever you’re not with him you’re working. I’m sick of competing for your attention!” He remarks in earnest, volume level rising.

Mark stands with his hand on the table, fist clenched by his side, white knuckled. It’s guilt. It’s guilt that’s eating away at him because he knows Jackson isn’t the villain, but in no situation does anybody accept that they’re wrong.

“Do you love him?”

“Jackson—”

“Answer me.” 

 

Mark hears the insecurity in Jackson’s voice but he’s tired of lying to him. He’s so, so tired.

“Of course I love him. He was the first guy I dated, and he’s a close friend, but I don’t want to be with him if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jackson inhales shakily.

“And me?”

“I love you too.” Mark replies. He already feels choked up.

“But are you in love with me?”

There’s a pause. Mark shuts his eyes.

“Jackson, please, I don’t want to talk about this now.” He’s teetering on the edge, close to breaking point, and he just hopes he won’t cut anyone with his jagged edges as this ship goes down and he goes down with it.

“Why not? Why won’t you fucking talk to me, Mark?!”

“Because I’m not sure I’m in love with either of you!” Mark yells abruptly, hands pulled through the blonde mop on his head, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes.

 

Jackson blinks vacantly at him, mouth hanging open just enough to tell Mark that he’s stupefied by the sudden admission. The silence resonates between the two of them and Mark can hear his own heartbeat loud and clear.

“I just— fuck, neither of you have ever given me a chance. It’s been constant from Youngjae to you with barely a gap in between, and even before and after, I’ve never really had a choice.” A bitter laugh bubbles up in his throat and spills over, like a venomous broth. 

Jackson rubs a hand over his face.

“You mean, all those times that you said you loved Youngjae to his face? Or the time you said it to me…? You didn’t mean it?”

Mark’s heart aches at the pain in Jackson’s eyes and he wants desperately to take it all back, pretend this never happened.  _ This _ is why he’s quiet,  _ this _ is why he thinks before he speaks, so stupid things like  _ this  _ don’t happen. But the damage has been done and he feels sick of running away.

 

“I thought I meant it I just,” He sighs, wiping a dreary hand across his eyes, willing himself not to cry, not now. “I’m not sure if I really know what  _ love  _ is. I’ve only ever been around you guys, you’re like family to me and I deeply care about both of you, but I can’t wholeheartedly promise I’m  _ in love  _ with you. Either of you.”

Jackson purses his lips and nods, as though he understands what Mark is saying, but it’s clear that he doesn’t.

“Jackson, listen. I’ve known you since my first year of high school and I’ve known Youngjae since birth. I’ve never really  _ been  _ with anybody but the two of you. I know that what I feel for both of you is strong, and I really do love you, but I can’t promise you it’s romantic love because I just don’t know. I’m so fucking confused and I-”

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

 

Mark stares at him, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Huh?”

Jackson stands up straighter, jaw tensing in the way it does when he’s really upset. Shit.

“Were you ever going to tell me, or Youngjae, that you’ve been playing us both this whole time?”

Mark frowns, confidence collapsing in on itself, lip wobbling dangerously as he feels the dull ache of tears at the back of his skull.

“I- I was—”

“Did you love Jinyoung?” The words are spiteful and cruel, laced with hatred and intent to maim. Mark looks at him in disbelief and hurt, rage suddenly encompassing his body and surging through his veins, all sadness and guilt forgotten in heat.

“That’s just unfair Jackson and you fucking know it, you asshole!” There’s fire burning in his eyes and he knows that they’re beyond ending this well. All it takes is a single comment thrown a little too far over the line.

“Well I’m sorry I’m not good enough, that turning down Stanford for you wasn’t good enough,” He spits and Mark cuts him off with a bark.

“I never asked you to do that for me!”

“I know! I chose to do it for you because I was stupid enough to think that you felt the same way I did! Shame on me I guess, sorry I couldn’t be Park fucking Jinyoung! Sorry I loved you when he didn’t!” Jackson bites back and this time the words are intended to kill.

 

Mark sees red.

 

“Take that back right now.” His words are frighteningly calm but Jackson doesn’t seem to take notice.

“Why is it that you won’t let yourself be happy, Mark?! Why are you still moping over an arrogant, stubborn prick that’s too busy fucking around with his  _ new  _ best friend to even give a shit about you? He loves Jaebum, Mark, you—”

Jackson is silenced when Mark shoves him square in the chest, hard enough for his back to slam into the nearest wall, spine narrowly missing the doorframe. 

“Shut up! Shut up! You don’t know  _ anything  _ about my friendship with Jinyoung, don’t even presume you know the half of it! Stop acting like you fucking  _ know  _ _me_ Jackson, all we had together was sex so don’t even  _ compare  _ yourself to him!” 

Jackson swallows his heart that has so dutifully made it’s way into his throat, the burn of Mark’s words finally hitting him with a sting more painful than that of a regular fire. 

He doesn’t even know when Mark had started crying but there are hot tears streaming down his face, and even in the dark he looks like a picture of pure misery. The pang of guilt Jackson feels is enough to rupture a whole nation and he doesn’t understand how everything got this fucked up.

 

“Get out and never speak to me again!” Mark hisses and Jackson wants to stay, wants to defend himself and apologise, pull Mark in for a hug and kiss it all better. 

But hugs and kisses aren’t going to fix this, he’s not sure if anything ever will. So he leaves without a goodbye and pretends he doesn’t hear Mark sob through the door on his way out.

 

XIX.

“Bambam, please just talk to him. You’re making this so unnecessarily difficult!” Youngjae pleads as the younger boy rolls a spliff on the coffee table, legs crossed and eager to block Youngjae out.

“Youngjae, you don’t get it, he doesn’t want to talk to me. I don’t think he even wants to see me.” Bambam explains as he takes the finished joint between his fingers and lights it. With a deep inhale and a glance of concern from his friend, Bambam starts to relax.

“What the hell did you say to him to make him so mad?” Youngjae pries, folding his arms as he awaits an answer or at least a goddamn response from Bambam. 

The smoke jimmies its way out of Bambam’s lips, darting and waving like an unkempt fly that just learned how to use its wings, and Youngjae looks away in distaste.

 

“He told me to stop with the drugs, and I told him I wouldn’t. I  _ need  _ my fixes and he just doesn’t fucking get that.” He explains and Youngjae eyes him suspiciously. He feels a single tug on his heart strings and whether it’s for Bambam or Yugyeom, he’s not sure. 

“You must’ve said something more than that for him to be this pissed, Bam.” Youngjae argues and he notices the defeat behind the younger’s eyes.

With a sigh Bambam looks up and there’s a tremble to his lips that wasn’t there before.

“I fucked up, okay? I told him… I told him that I would pick drugs over him any day.” He seems ashamed to admit it and Youngjae groans into his hands, rubbing at his face like this is all just some terrible dream that they’ll wake up from eventually, if they try hard enough. 

 

“And what did he say to that?” He asks, dreading the answer. Yugyeom is the sweetest boy on the planet, a heart big enough to fit the entire world inside it, but push him just far enough and he can get vicious, cruel even. 

“He said he hoped I overdose and die.” Bambam admits with a bitter curl to his lips and Youngjae is on the verge of a breakdown, sick and tired of clearing up everyone else’s messes.  It seems he’s the one who always has to talk to everybody when nobody will talk to anyone, bandaging wounds and doling out anaesthetic like he gets paid for it or something. It’s tiring and he misses things the way they were before, like a closely knit family, woven with all the best and worst memories of times spent together. 

 

He’s already noticed something’s wrong with Jackson, Mark, Jinyoung and Jaebum. He’s not blind. Something’s been happening for a long time now.

He misses being Mark’s benign ex-boyfriend, a happy officiator of everyone’s relationships and mario kart matches, but gone are the days they used to spend cooped up in Mark’s basement practicing guitar riffs on drum beats. Gone are the days wasted in Jinyoung’s parent’s yard, drinking ice cold lemonade, stretched out on deck chairs in the blazing sun. There’s no use crying over spilt milk so he sucks it up because he has to be stronger for the weaknesses of his friends. 

He’s not sure when he took on this duty, this role of councillor among his companionship circle, but he doesn’t give it a second thought as he pats the top of Bambam’s head affectionately and utters words he hopes are comforting.

“We’ll sort this out, Bam. I’ll talk to Yugyeom. You know he didn’t mean it.”

Bambam looks up at him with a painful glimmer of hope in his eyes but it’s laced with doubt.

“You sure about that? What about the others?” 

Youngjae looks at him one last time before turning to the front door. He doesn’t turn back as the door clicks shut behind him.

 

XX.

“Hyung, you’re a mess.” Youngjae comments as he dumps the bag of groceries on Jaebum’s kitchen counter before waltzing his way over to where Jaebum is splayed out on the couch, eyes shut and heart heavy.

“Thanks for the comforting words.” Jaebum remarks snidely, voice dripping with sarcasm. Youngjae snorts.

“It doesn’t help that you’re refusing to talk to him, like a giant baby.” Youngjae adds as he gives Jaebum a quick one-over. He looks like shit—hair greasy from where he hasn’t washed it in days, sweatpants stained with booze and dry cereal, and the worst part of it all; the dark rings around his eyes that give Youngjae the right to be concerned.

Jaebum keeps the fact that he’s been vomiting up anything he eats, too sick to his stomach with guilt and something akin to jealousy, to himself for fear of worrying Youngjae further. He doesn’t need to be a burden right now. 

 

“You didn’t show up for practice today.” Youngjae reminds him, busying himself with tidying scattered papers and plumping up cushions. He’s used to helping Jaebum clear up his messes when Jinyoung’s not around to do damage control. 

Jaebum doesn’t move an inch from where he’s situated on the sofa, eyes shut and mouth drawn into a frown. 

“Didn’t feel like it.” He shrugs. Youngjae sighs, resigned.

“Hyung you need to stop this. You and Jinyoung have been through just as many highs as you have lows. This will blow over if you just talk to him.”

Jaebum doesn’t seem so convinced. Youngjae doesn’t know about the fact that Jinyoung’s blocked his number, doesn’t know about the petty photos that came before that; of random strangers with their lips plastered to Jinyoung’s neck. Doesn’t know that Jaebum jerked off to the pictures whilst crying, with Jinyoung’s name on the tip of his tongue. 

Youngjae may be perceptive and have a firm idea of how to tackle a situation, but he doesn’t know the ins and outs of their relationship, and it’s unnerving to see him have to guess for once.

 

He rolls over and opens his eyes, looking directly up at Youngjae’s face. He and Youngjae go quite far back. His parents used to dump him at Youngjae’s house when they went out for the evening, too cheap to hire an actual babysitter, and while Jaebum had been a little older than him, he hadn’t minded the age gap so much when their eyes were glued to the TV screen and their hands were on video game controllers. Besides—Youngjae’s parents adored him.

Jaebum had lost contact with Youngjae after his family moved house and he hadn’t really thought anything of it until Youngjae joined his school a few years later, already seemingly close with Mark. What a small world, right?

He’d sort of taken Youngjae under his wing throughout the rest of their school life, protected him like a brother, so he had to confess it’d been really fucking weird for him when Youngjae and Mark started dating. 

He eventually got used to it though. They just  _ worked  _ together, and it made his stomach flip whenever he saw how happy they were in each other’s company. He still distinctly remembers the time he’d walked in on Youngjae curled up in Mark’s arms, head tucked under his chin.

That was the first time he’d genuinely considered settling down with someone.

 

Initially he had dismissed the idea, too afraid of commitment at the time, but then he’d found Kang Sora through one of the school’s talent competitions and had fallen head over heels immediately. 

He’d been dragged even further down the rabbit hole after they’d kissed for the first time, the way she’d taken his hands in her own, guided them up her shapely thighs and under the hem of her skirt. It’d felt intoxicating. At that point he thought he’d never live to see the day that he fell out of love with her.

Jinyoung liked to tease him about it endlessly, taunting him for ruining his “playboy reputation” and settling down, but when their relationship started to break apart the jokes swiftly became stale and the teasing corrosive. He sort of wishes he’d been a more attentive boyfriend but what are you supposed to do when you’re thrown completely out of your depth into feelings and thoughts that are entirely new to you?

 

There had also been Junho, but that was long in the past, even before Sora. Junho had been Jaebum’s sunbae at school, captain of the football team and Jaebum’s not-so-straight sexual awakening, so to speak. He was the first guy Jaebum had ever had any kind of non-platonic feelings for, which left him feeling like the heartsick preteen he was at the time whenever the elder doted on him or slung a muscular arm around his shoulders after a match.

He still remembers the tingling sensation he got every time Junho’s fingertips brushed his skin, and the way he would redden whenever Junho complimented him on his passes. He still remembers how it had been Junho’s name on his lips when he woke from the first wet dream he’d ever had, and the ensconcing shame and embarrassment that had come with it. 

The crush had long since faded, though, murdered the moment Junho announced he was moving to Tokyo for his father’s business. 

 

And then there was Jinyoung… Jaebum still doesn’t know what’s going on there. It’s like every time he tries to open that door he’s met with caution tape and ‘do not disturb’ signs so he’s given up trying anymore.  But maybe that’s what the problem is. He’s so used to Jinyoung being there for him, so used to relying on Jinyoung to pick up the pieces when he makes a mess of himself, that he sometimes misses the ways in which he doesn’t give back. 

It’s the same mistakes over and over, the same way he fucks up all of his relationships. Because Jaebum is loyal, Jaebum is loyal as fuck, but he’s terribly misguided at understanding what people want. He never learned how to read between the lines and it seems as though that’s the only place people write these days.

 

“Jaebum, listen,” Youngjae interrupts the flow of his thoughts and while Jaebum would normally call him out for the lack of honorifics, he doesn’t have the energy right now. “You and Jinyoung will work it out. I don’t know what’s going on but you always do, you have to. You’re best friends. Please don’t let this fight ruin everything you’ve worked to keep, including our shots at booking a successful gig.” 

Jaebum sighs.

He hates that Youngjae is always right.

 

XXI. 

Youngjae is frustrated. 

Yugyeom is still practically M.I.A, ignoring all of his texts and calls and only ever contacting him to let him know he won’t be at practice. Jaebum is a continuous mess because Jinyoung won’t return his calls and he’s always been a bit of a self-pitying masochist anyway. Jackson and Mark will both only interact with him on the basis that the other isn’t present, yet neither of them will explain why.

He still talks to Bambam but he sees him considerably less than before and it all makes Youngjae want to tear his hair out. He didn’t ask for a friendship group so full off stubborn, hotheaded children who seem to be incapable of sorting out their own problems. 

He manages to corner Jackson outside his apartment one day, pleading with him for the much needed information about his and Mark’s dispute. He’s not leaving without an answer.

“C’mon Jacks, he’ll hardly talk to me, I’m sick of being out of the loop. What the fuck happened?” Youngjae begs, fingers clasped as he stands before the older man. 

Jackson sighs deeply and Youngjae’s hopes rise a little.

“We had a fight. I said some stuff that maybe I shouldn’t’ve but he’s not exactly in the right either. And now he won’t talk to me. I think you’re better off talking to Mark about this…” Jackson scratches at his neck. “He has some things he needs to tell you.” 

Youngjae frowns and drops his hands to his sides.

“What sort of ‘things’?” He asks nervously, a tugging sensation working his abdomen into a frenzy. 

Jackson takes his cap off and rakes a hand through his hair.

“Things relating to the time you dated. I can tell you if you really want to know but it might sound better coming from him, coated in sugar and all that.” Jackson explains and Youngjae’s never seen him this bogged down. It’s incredibly worrying.

“What did he say?” He asks and bristles as he waits for the response. Jackson takes a breath and parts his lips, searching for the right words.

“He said he never loved you or me. That he’s confused about his feelings. I asked him if he loved Jinyoung and he exploded on me. Guess we all know the answer to that…” 

 

Youngjae’s brain freezes over. He’s not particularly devastated about Mark not having loved him, it makes sense when it surrounds a relatively brief high school relationship, but what really gets him is how soul crushing this must be for Jackson. 

Of course Youngjae had been in love with Mark, it was practically impossible not to have been, but he’d never ignored the way Jackson looked at Mark like he was the sun and Jackson was the earth, revolving around him day in and day out. Sure, it had made him feel a little insecure at the time, but he’d had bigger things to worry about and he knew deep down that Jackson deserved Mark more than he ever could. He’d always thought of himself as a stepping stone for Mark, a relationship to come before his inevitable one with Jackson, but it seems the cards were wrong and everything is out of whack.

 

So his heart aches on behalf of his friend, not because of him. His heart aches because he knows what it’s like to love Mark but not feel it entirely reciprocated, despite the blunt efforts to pay no notice.

And he knows now; now that everything is out in the open, that nothing will ever be the same as it once was. This heap of fragile yet heavy relationships was always meant to crumble, fate set in stone. 

So with a nod and tears in his eyes, he turns to leave, blocking out the questions leaking from Jackson’s mouth. 

 

He has one more pit-stop before he’s through.

 

XXII.

“Mark, I know you’re in there! Open up!” Youngjae yells as he pounds on Mark’s door, patience worn and threadbare. He’s had enough of being ignored.

The door swings open to reveal Mark’s forlorn face, bags etched into it just below his eyes as he looks Youngjae up and down.

“What do you want?” He asks tiredly and Youngjae feels that familiar aching again, the one he just wants to stop.

“I saw Jackson earlier. He said you two fought.”

Mark looks at his feet and Youngjae notices him swallow.

“Did he tell you why?” Mark asks, refusing to look up.

“No.” Youngjae lies. Mark looks up at him finally, lip pulled between teeth.

“Do you wanna come in for some tea?” His voice sounds frail and Youngjae doesn’t have the heart to say no.

“Sure.”   
  


Once they’re settled on Mark’s couch with mugs of steaming tea, side by side but not quite touching, Youngjae finally asks him.

“So why did you fight?” 

Mark remains silent for a few seconds before opening his mouth to reply.

“I guess I’m a bit confused about how I feel? And I… I told him I didn’t love him and he didn’t take it well.”

It looks painful to admit, Youngjae thinks, like Mark’s just coughed up razor blades. There’s an awkward tension in the air and Youngjae’s not sure what to make of it.

“Well at least you told him the truth, though I can see why he’d be upset,” Youngjae sighs, setting his tea down on the coffee table. “Any reason in particular why you don’t love him?”

 

Mark seems to think twice as hard on that.

 

“I—No, not really. He’s always been incredible to me, really selfless. But—I don’t know. It just hasn’t clicked or something.”

“Or maybe you still don’t think you deserve him? Perhaps you’re still caught up on Jinyoung?” 

Mark’s eyes snap up to meet Youngjae’s and he slams his mug of tea down onto the table carelessly, ignoring the way the warm liquid spills over the edge. 

“Why does everyone keep fucking saying that?!” He demands and Youngjae suddenly sees what Jackson was talking about.

“No need to get so defensive, Mark, jesus.” He retorts bitterly. Mark blinks back at him before backing down, sinking into himself as he draws his knees up to his chin. 

“I’m sorry. Just tired.” He apologises quietly. Youngjae sighs and places a comforting hand on his shoulder, turning the elder’s attention to him.

“Look Mark, you’re a great guy and you truly deserve someone as wonderful as you, and I really think that Jackson is the—” Youngjae’s words slide back down his throat as Mark’s hands grab him by the cheeks and presses their lips together.

 

He kisses back for a moment, their lips slotting together just like they used to, until he suddenly gets ahold of himself and pushes Mark away. Mark stares at him with wide eyes like he’s just committed a crime.

“Fuck— Shit, Youngjae, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I just— Fucking hell,” Mark mumbles as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head fall into his hands.

“I think I’m gonna go…” Youngjae says as he finds his feet and Mark grabs Youngjae’s wrist before he can take one step forward. 

“Please don’t tell Jackson.” He begs and Youngjae simply looks at him in disbelief. 

“Goodbye Mark.” He remarks as he shakes Mark’s grip and rushes to the door.

 

And Mark’s alone. 

 

XXIII.

Youngjae’s phone buzzes as he downs a shot of tequila, grimacing at the taste. 

 

He glances at his lockscreen and realises it’s a text from Jaebum.

 

**_Band rehearsal tomorrow. 4pm. Don’t be late._ **

 

Youngjae rolls his eyes before burying his head in his arms.

 

XXIV.

Nobody wants to admit it but there’s an incredibly tense atmosphere throughout the entire band rehearsal, one that’s slowly gritting on Yugyeom’s last nerves. 

Youngjae and Mark won’t look at each other directly and Jaebum keeps barking out orders, yelling at even the slightest mistake and cursing when the fuck up is his own. Mark finally snaps while Jaebum’s busy drilling Youngjae about his harmony, the younger evidently close to tears.

“Yah, Jaebum, leave him alone.” Mark tells him and Jaebum shuts up, though he doesn’t look too pleased about it. Mark’s the only one who’s usually able to get any co-operation out of Jaebum, probably something to do with being the only one able to hold the age card over him, but Jaebum is still as stubborn as he is angry and he doesn’t back down from a fight. 

“It’s not my fault he keeps messing up the  _ same verse _ every time we rehearse.” Jaebum snarls and Yugyeom runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, and you keep fucking up the bass line at the bridge. Stop being such a fucking hypocrite, alright?”

Youngjae glances between the two of them anxiously, fiddling with his fingers as Mark and Jaebum stare each other down.

Jaebum’s radiating a  _ ‘fuck off’ _ kinda vibe while Mark’s shooting daggers with his eyes and all four of them know that this goes deeper than flesh, the irritation and anger stemming from a whole other level.

 

“Maybe we should start again from the top?” Youngjae prompts, trying desperately to keep the situation under control and dispel some of the awkwardness, to no avail. 

“Fine.” Jaebum grunts as he starts up his bass again, each pluck of his fingers more aggressive than the last.

Youngjae starts singing and tries not to let the hurt of the situation seep into his voice as the song progresses. They hit the bridge and this time it’s  _ Mark  _ that gets it wrong, his drum beat slightly off rhythm, and Jaebum flies off the handle.

“Oh my god, are you  _ trying  _ to get this wrong? Our next gig is only a few weeks away, we need to get this down!” Jaebum raises his voice and everybody is equally done with him, but it ignites something in Youngjae that rarely rears its ugly head.

“Jesus, Jaebum, leave him the fuck alone! You’ve been an ass this entire rehearsal!” He protests, frustration taking over.

Jaebum turns to him with narrowed eyes and his mouth curls into a frown as he starts to pick on Youngjae. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” 

 

Yugyeom pipes up this time. 

 

“He said you’re being a fucking ass, which you are. And you two,” He jabs two fingers in Youngjae and Mark’s directions. “Aren’t helping with this weird tension you’ve got going on. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one in this band that actually wants to make this work. So until you fuckers figure this out, don’t even try contacting me.”

And with that he rips off his guitar strap, grabs his case and leaves Mark’s basement. The remaining three are in a state of mutual shock at the outburst, especially from Yugyeom who has always been very careful about respecting his elders, using honorifics and apologising when Bambam doesn’t.

It’s weird that all of their own personal shit is somehow driving a wedge between them but nobody wants to talk about it, so Jaebum packs up his bass and leaves as well.

 

“You okay?” Mark asks casually as Youngjae steadily massages his temples, eyes shut. Youngjae nods but the sigh that comes with his exhale of breath dictates he’s probably lying.

Then Youngjae leaves and Mark is alone again.


	4. four

XXV.

Yugyeom wipes the stinging tears from his eyes as he thumps his head back against the cool tarmac, fingers spread out against the bumpy but ultimately smooth surface. He misses his friends, misses Bambam and Jackson and Jinyoung.  Of course he hadn’t meant what he’d said but he was angry and upset at the time and nobody was on his side. Nobody’s ever on his side.

He just wants his family back. He wants to be curled up on Jackson’s couch with his friends, watching lame disney movies and drinking hot chocolate, not lying cold and dejected on the runway of an abandoned airfield. 

It’s his getaway place for when he’s feeling down and he’s been coming here more and more frequently as of late. 

Why is it that everything good in his life leaves him?

 

He’s reluctant to go home to his parents, not fond of the idea of explaining why he can’t stay with Bambam anymore, but he hasn’t really got another choice. 

So he yells as loud as he can, high pitched screaming echoing off the run down building and distant trees, before pulling himself up to his feet and tugging at his hair. 

He wants to punch something but there’s nothing to punch and he momentarily thinks back to Jaebum in high school and what he must’ve felt like a lot of the time. It hadn’t been a secret that he’d been sent to anger management therapy in his 3rd year of middle school and Yugyeom had never really thought about what must have been going on in his head the whole time. 

He dabs at his face with a sleeve to try and conceal any traces of shameful tears and sniffs and he wishes things could go back to the way they were before. 

He leaves through a gap in the fencing and doesn't look back.

 

XXVI.

It’s been a month.

 

Everybody coincidentally missed the audition without any prior agreement and all of their calls are going unanswered, houses unvisited. 

Jaebum avoids the local pub in favour of more swanky, uptown venues, Jackson works and works out and then works again, Jinyoung still can’t bear to throw out Jaebum’s stuff that’s littering his home and Mark books a one-way ticket to Incheon.  Bambam moved out of his and Youngjae’s apartment a couple of weeks ago, claiming he found a cheaper place to stay, and Yugyeom’s staying with his parents.

What was seemingly perfect not two months ago has disintegrated and decades worth of friendship have dissipated, temporariness debatable. 

 

It’s such a doleful shame.

 

XXVII.

There’s an unduly sad tinge to the way the cigarette hangs from Jaebum’s parted lips as he stares off the balcony situated just outside the bar, biting wind wrapping itself around his torso. 

He’s never really felt this depressed in his life, since he’s always been able to rely on the adrenaline of playing music or drugs or one night stands to pick him up. Always with a friend to lean on. But he hasn’t slept with anyone in weeks and as it nears Christmas his heart sinks at the realisation that none of his friends are really on speaking terms anymore. 

He hasn’t heard from Jinyoung in just over a month, either, which sets off a dull ache in his chest that he’d rather not think about if he’s being honest. He doesn’t know when it just became easier to deny his feelings than to let himself be fucking happy for one minute, but it is. Sometimes he thinks that he doesn’t truly feel  _ enough _ .

 

He’s snapped out of his drowning thoughts by the familiar buzz of his phone and he arches his brow when he reads the name flashing on the screen in earnest. 

“What do you want, Mark?” He asks as he answers the call, but it’s not cutting, just hollow.

There’s a shaky sigh on the other side of the line and Jaebum notes that Mark’s probably feeling just as lonely as he is. Jaebum waits patiently for him to talk.

“Have you heard anything from him?” He asks eventually, and Jaebum instantly knows who he’s talking about but he acts coy for a little satisfaction at hearing Mark say it himself.

“Who?” 

Mark huffs.

“You know who.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, Mark—”

“Jinyoung, Jaebum! I’m talking about Jinyoung.”

Jaebum takes a deep inhale of smoke, letting the tar fill his blackening lungs as he privately hopes he’s one step closer to death. Well, that’s a little too morbid, he’s not suicidal he’s just tired.

He can hear Mark breathing quietly down the phone.

 

He knows deep inside himself that he’s always been jealous of Mark and Jinyoung’s relationship, their unspoken bond that Jaebum, regardless of how close he and Jinyoung have become over the years, can never hope to attain. And he secretly hates himself for it.

And it hurts him that Jinyoung is pushing away everybody that’s close to him just to spite Jaebum— it’s not fair. It’s not fair on Mark, on Jackson, on Yugyeom or Bambam or Youngjae. All over some stupid argument that they’ve probably had 100 times over in the form of various disputes and bar fights.

Sometimes Jaebum wonders if he and Jinyoung have always been that fucked up. If deep down the only thing holding them together was their matched desire to burn with anguish, equally cruel and intent on war only to nurture their own masochistic tendencies. 

 

And then he thinks about the sweet times, the ones where’d they lie in bed for hours on end in blissful silence, fingers interwoven and noses pressed to throats. He thinks about Jinyoung’s weirdly sexy bed hair or how he gets excited about Murakami novels like nobody else. The way his cheeks turned a dusty pink when Jaebum made him a mixtape for his 17th birthday, complete with a shitty, scribbled drawing of them as stick figures on the cover in permanent marker. 

And all of this emotion, all of this built up pain and hurt and  _ love _ , just gushes into his voice as he utters that one, poignant word.

“No.”

Mark breathes on the other side and Jaebum hears the rattle of his lungs, like a mechanic bird trying to break free of its cage. 

“Neither.”

 

He stubs out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe and flicks the remains over the balustrade, a twinge of grief settling behind his eyes.

 

XXVIII.

“Is there anyone we can call?” The receptionist asks Jinyoung, her brows knitted together, face forged with worry. “Anyone who can pick you up?”

Jinyoung winces a little as his wracks his brain for a logical thought but all he’s coming up with is  _ Jaebum Jaebum Jaebum  _ and that’s the furthest possible thing from logical.

He knows its a bad idea, beyond that, a disastrous idea even. Maybe a pointless one? There’s no guaranteeing Jaebum will even pick up the phone, let alone pick him up from the hospital at god knows what time in the morning. 

Jinyoung doesn’t even really deserve it, to be honest. But what can he say? He misses him and yes, he may have blocked Jaebum’s number, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have every digit memorised like it’s his mother’s birthday.

 

“I have one person I could try,” He nods, trying to ignore the pain streaming through his face with every sudden, jerky movement. 

The nurse prods at the buttons on the telephone with a manicured finger as Jinyoung relates Jaebum’s number to her like it’s a lifeline. He waits anxiously as she croons into the speaker, busying her hands with some paperwork.

_ C’mon Jaebum, please pick up, please. _

Her eyes shine and she sits up straighter, clutching the phone with a gentle and firm hand.

“Hello, thank you for answering.”

 

XXIX.

“Get in the car.” Jaebum barks as he and Jinyoung leave the hospital, Jinyoung’s wounds patched up and sealed with stitches, the slight bruising around his eye the only visible trophy of the night he’s had. 

He feels guilty, of course he does, getting Jaebum all the way out here in the middle of nowhere to pick him up after pointedly ignoring him for a month, simply because his is the only number Jinyoung has memorised.  But there’s an inkling of hope inside him, a hope that this will somehow work out because Jaebum showed up. Jaebum didn’t abandon him, didn’t leave him to fend for himself even when he most truly deserved it.

And really, he thinks, isn’t that just the basis of their friendship?

 

They’ve been through fucking  _ everything  _ together. When Mark confessed to Jinyoung in seventh grade and Jinyoung got all panicked about it, fearful of losing his friendship with Mark forever, Jaebum had grounded him and helped him through it.

When Jaebum’s cat, Nora, had died two days before his 15th birthday, Jinyoung had been their to cradle his head in his lap as he cried. It didn’t matter that they had just squabbled over some vogue video game (something that he can assure was very important at the time) because Jinyoung had always been able to set aside his stubbornness when Jaebum really needed him.

And when Jaebum’s mother had relapsed and he’d gone into a depressive episode, fully prepared to do something  _ really  _ bad to anyone he could get it his hands on, Jinyoung had helped to calm him down and guide him through it. 

They were good for each other in doses— like medicine —but Jinyoung wonders if it’s possible to overdose on a person.

 

They sit side by side as the engine rumbles and Jaebum drives them out of the parking lot, hand steady on the wheel. It’s awkward, painfully so, and Jinyoung watches as his warm breath rolls against the icy window, the resulting foggy splodge shrinking in size as he studies it.

Jaebum’s the first one to break the silence.

“That was a stupid move, Jin.” He curses but it doesn’t sound angry, all the fury and rage of the argument they’d had only a month and a bit before drained from his voice, leaving behind frustration and exasperation. He just sounds tired. 

“I know.” Jinyoung replies, bringing his knees up, shoes left resting on the seat. Usually Jaebum would kick up a fuss about his pleather interior getting sullied by Jinyoung’s filthy sneakers but this time he doesn’t, just stares ahead at the road as Jinyoung looks over. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not going to pretend I’m not mad but you do know I just don’t want you hurt, right?” Jaebum checks, voice causing rifts in the silence with a foghorn-like effectiveness.

Jinyoung lets his head loll to the side as he stares at the fingerprints and raindrops tainting the window, a sigh trapped deep in his chest.

“I know.” 

 

They drive for another five minutes in uncomfortable quiet, the atmosphere so thick Jinyoung could slice it with a knife. 

Jaebum keeps fidgeting in the driver's seat and eventually he caves in and turns on the sound system. It’s ancient and only plays cassette tapes so it’s no surprise when on comes one of Jaebum’s old mixes, the opening chords of the guitar strikingly familiar and inappropriately upbeat.

Jinyoung taps his fingers against the dash absentmindedly, in time to the rhythm, and mouths along to the words as they come, if only to distract himself. He’s not even conscious of his actions until Jaebum speaks up .

“Since when do you know the words to this song? I thought you didn’t like that, quote, ‘pop-punk drivel’ I used to play you?” 

His voice is flat but Jinyoung still freezes up in his seat, embarrassed to have finally been caught. Careless mistake. He hadn’t even been aware he’d been singing along and suddenly the cheerful tune fills him with nostalgia, flooding his brain with memories and feelings of being a teenager again.

“I may or may not have borrowed your Third Eye Blind cd without telling you.” He offers weakly, refusing to meet Jaebum’s eyes properly.

Jaebum grins and laughs to himself a little, and it’s the first time Jinyoung’s heard him laugh like that in a while, disturbingly different to how he’d been only moments ago. The air between them doesn’t seem so tense anymore and Jinyoung wonders if Jaebum’s feeling as wistful as he is. He’s always been a mushy romantic at heart.

 

Jinyoung is snapped out of his reverie when Jaebum starts singing along in a small voice, barely audible above the guitar and lead vocal. 

“You say that I changed, well maybe I did.”

Jinyoung watches him with cautious eyes and he can’t quite ignore how much Jaebum looks like his 17 year old self as he sings along, a youthful glaze to his eyes. It warms Jinyoung’s heart, makes him think back to when they were just sloppy kisses and blistering summers, rushed homework in the library and painstaking detentions after school.

“But even if I changed, what’s wrong with it?” 

He misses it.

Jinyoung’s heart swells and he can’t help it, can’t keep it in, when he joins Jaebum in a harmony to do the chorus more justice than it deserves.

“I never let you go, I never let you go.”

Jaebum glances at him for a quick moment and the two of them are singing, stupid smiles plastered across both of their faces.

“I never let you turn around, your back on each other, that’s a good idea, break a promise to your mother.”

Jinyoung had almost forgotten how much fun it was singing along to shitty, car-audio jams with Jaebum on road trips and long drives. They’d done it so much in high school and college, he hardly believes how much time has passed since then.

 

Jaebum leaves him singing the next verse by himself.

“And now our friends are gone, are gone, and all the time moves on and on,” The lyrics are starting to hit a little close to home but he sings them anyway, out of familiarity if nothing else. “And all I know is it’s wrong, it’s wrong. And all I know is it’s wrong, it’s wrong.”

Jaebum twists the volume knob to turn up the music a little, and this time Jinyoung leaves him to sing by himself as he gazes out of the window at the vast landscape surrounding them.

“If there’s a reason, it’s lost on me,” Jaebum glances at him. “Maybe we’ll be friends, I guess we’ll see.” 

They don’t even need to make eye contact to both understand the implication and suddenly their voices are loud, practically yelling the words as the song hits the chorus once more.

“I never let you go! I never let you go!”

Jinyoung beams at Jaebum as he drives and they sing from the top of their lungs, awkward tenor lost to the drums.

“I never let you go! I never let you go!”

Jinyoung wants to cry, feels his soul set alight as they shout along to the song on the desolate highway, laughter bubbling up between guitar riffs. His face aches with every vibration of his voice but he doesn’t care anymore, he’s grown accustomed to pain over the last month anyway.

 

The song eventually fades out and Jinyoung’s cheeks ache from smiling, his heart racing faster than the car they’re driving in. The next song comes on and Jaebum tones the volume back down, smiling to himself.

“I had no idea you even liked that song.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes and his cheeks start to feel warm.

“That’s because I didn’t want to tell you. It’s only one song, your genre still sucks.” 

Jaebum laughs at that and Jinyoung feels relief sinking in, incredibly happy that they were graced by a nice pick-me-up.

“I miss doing this. Y’know, like, driving with you for hours, listening to music, stopping off at fast food restaurants that are bound to give us food poisoning.”

Jinyoung nods, lips slanting upwards in a sort of sentimental way.

“Yeah.” He mumbles in agreement, eyes scanning the sky for any sign of real stars instead of airplane lights. “Me too.”

 

“You should replace Youngjae as lead singer, you sound better than he does.” He adds after a moment and Jaebum’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You really think so?”

Jinyoung smirks as a cackle bubbles up in his throat.

“Of course not. You’re a good singer but you’re best left behind the bass. Youngjae can handle it himself.”

Jaebum frowns grumpily and throws Jinyoung a glare, but his mouth is still drawn up into a smile and Jinyoung’s chest feels warm. The next few minutes are doused in silence, and then:

“I’m sorry.” Jaebum blurts out the words in a flurry but Jinyoung understands them, knows that it’s about their fight without even asking. He smiles.

“I know.”

 

XXX.

Mark’s reclined in an armchair with a joint hanging from his mouth, perched between lips as he listens to the rain beat down on the skylight of his rented room, when Jinyoung calls him for the first time in over a month.  It’s not the first contact he’s had with anybody; he’s called Jaebum and Yugyeom, and attempted with Bambam (the signal was apparently too terrible on Bambam’s end). Jackson and Youngjae were both dodging his calls and as far as he was concerned, Jinyoung had ostracised himself. 

 

So he’s surprised to say the least as he hits ‘answer’ with the pad of his thumb and holds up the phone to his ear with a shaky hand.

“Mark?” He hears down the line and his breath catches in his throat.

“Yeah?” He replies, voice sluggish with only a single word.

“Sorry, it’s been a while.” Jinyoung murmurs and Mark chuckles absently, taking a puff of his joint.

“You don’t say.”

Jinyoung is silent for a moment, and then,

“Whereabouts are you? I went to your apartment but you weren’t there. I must’ve looked like an idiot, banging on your door yelling ‘let me in’ until one of your neighbours told me you were out.”

Mark smiles faintly to himself at the mental image. He’s fairly certain all the residents of his building hate Jinyoung’s guts.

“I’m in Incheon.” He confesses and Jinyoung seems surprised, judging by the small sound that escapes him and flutters down the line.

“When are you coming back?” He prods and Mark shuts his eyes for a brief moment.

 

“How are things with Jaebum? You still not talking?” He swiftly changes the subject, hoping Jinyoung won’t notice, but it’s never been that easy. Jinyoung knows everything about him.

“Wait— You are coming back, right?” Jinyoung’s voice wavers. 

“Listen, Jin— I’m not sure okay? I feel like maybe I need the change. Just to get away for a few months or something.”

There’s static silence.

“So you’re leaving me behind, then?” 

The question breaks Mark’s heart and he hates himself for even making Jinyoung consider that, like he would ever desert him.

“Of course not, I would never abandon you Jinyoung, you know that. Just because I’m not living a 10 minute bus ride away from you doesn’t mean I’m leaving you behind.” 

Jinyoung sniffles.

“Everything’s just so messed up… You know, I haven’t seen Bambam or Yugyeom since my fight with Jaebum. Don’t even know where they are or what they’re up to.” 

Mark feels a heavy thud in his chest as he tries to recollect the last time he interacted with them. He’s been a bit preoccupied with feeling guilty and loathing himself even more than he did before, but the worst is when he falls asleep only to relive his argument with Jackson.

 

Jackson.

 

That’s somebody he’s been thinking about non-stop. It comes in passing, not always linear or logical, but sometimes things can drum up the most random memories of better times spent by his side. He’s been thinking about how long he can stay in denial about what Youngjae said. He doesn’t deserve Jackson and he never will. Hell, he doesn’t even deserve Youngjae.

Part of him wonders if Youngjae and Jackson have been pulled into the current of mutual disregard, or whether Youngjae spilled the beans about Mark kissing him straight away. It’s been preying on his mind a lot.

He doesn’t want to think about this anymore.

 

“So, you still ignoring Jaebum?”

“Uh, actually, about that… he sort of came to pick me up from the hospital and—”

“Wait, hospital? Why?!” Mark sounds alarmed and that’s because he is.

“It’s not a big deal, I just got into a fight with some guys cause they called me a fag.” 

Mark’s breath shudders and he stubs out his joint, tossing it in the ashtray.

“I should’ve been there for you.” He decides not to ask why Jinyoung didn’t call him first, because he knows the answer. Jaebum always comes first.

“No, Mark, seriously it’s fine. Jaebum picked me up right away and we talked in the car. It’s hard to believe we even had such a stupid fight, honestly…” He trails off and Mark’s left gnawing at his lower lip.

“Jinyoung, you need to make sure you guys  _ talk _ . I know you still have some issues cooped up and Jaebum’s not exactly a very open guy himself. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Jinyoung speaks again.

“Mark, I think I’m in love with him.” 

Despite the plummeting feeling in Mark’s stomach, he smiles for his friend because while he may be dealing with some internal conflicts, he does truly want Jinyoung to be happy and hearing him finally admit it to himself is the first step. Jinyoung and Jaebum have been dancing around each other for far too long, never quite meeting in the middle, despite their ridiculously codependent relationship. It’s a relief to know that things might be starting to get better.

“I know you are. What made you realise?” 

Jinyoung coughs slightly.

“Ok it’s gonna sound dumb but, he stayed over last night after taking me home, and I really thought we were going to fuck or something. I’m not sure, there was this tension and I was flirting with him a little bit because he was wearing that one black, henley shirt,” 

Mark rolls his eyes, “Go on.”

“But we didn’t. He put me to bed and went to clear up the kitchen and when he came back, I think he thought I was asleep or something, but he sang to me. He sat down next to me and stroked my hair and just sang, really quietly. And then he went to sleep right next to me, our backs were pressed together, but I hardly slept because all I could think about was spending the rest of my life with him. I want to be with him forever, Mark. I guess it’s always been him.” 

Mark smiles and rubs at his arm as his friend pours his heart out. He’s been waiting for this for so long, for Jinyoung to finally realise that his feelings for Jaebum aren’t the tiny crush he makes them out to be, and now that it’s finally happened it feels like a weight off his shoulders.

Sure, he’s still carrying the entire world on his back, but anything to lighten the load.

 

“I’m so happy for you, Jin.” He says and Jinyoung hums a thank you.

“It does fucking suck though. Now my heart hurts and I feel like a lovesick teenager, and come on, you and I both know it’s never going to work.”

Mark frowns at that. “Why not?”

Jinyoung laughs bitterly.

“Me and Jaebum are like arrows headed in different directions. He doesn’t want a commitment, I’m not even sure if he likes me like _ that.  _ How am I supposed to compare when he’s got beautiful people throwing themselves at him every time he goes out? I’m just boring, old Jinyoung, good for a quick fuck and nothing else.”

“Don’t say that!” Mark hisses into the speaker.

“Why not? It’s true. We can’t be around each other for more than two weeks without having a petty argument, even if we are best friends. He’s so fucking stubborn and passionate and prideful and I love him anyway. Fuck—what did I ever do to deserve this?” He whines and Mark sighs.

“Well if it makes you feel any better, I think you’re good for each other.” He comments. “You get him, he gets you, and you bring out the best and the worst in each other. Relationships are a lot of work but you guys always bounce back and I think that’s really what it takes to be together.”

Even though he can’t see him, Mark can tell Jinyoung’s smiling despondently on the other side of the call.

“Sometimes I wish I’d fallen in love with you. Things would’ve been a lot easier.”

Mark smiles sadly to himself.  _ So do I. _

“Anyway, I have to get going,” Jinyoung mumbles and Mark hears the creak of his bed where he gets up off of it. “It was nice talking to you. I miss you.”   


“I miss you too Jinyoungie.”

 

XXXI.

Yugyeom is the last person Bambam expects to see when he yanks open the front door to Youngjae’s apartment, packing up the last of his things from his old accommodation. He’d left a few things behind and swung by to pick them up while Youngjae was out.

He guesses it makes sense, seeing as Yugyeom had no idea he’d even moved in the first place, but he briefly wonders if fate is responsible for the impeccable timing.

Yugyeom looks breathless as Bambam stares up at him in surprise, the resonant silence between them growing thicker by the second.

“Hey, can we talk?” Yugyeom breaks the tension first and Bambam blinks as the words sink in.

“Uh, sure.” He nods and cracks the door open a little wider to let Yugyeom squeeze past him. His heart jumps longingly as the skin of Yugyeom’s forearm brushes against his. 

 

When Bambam shuts the door and follows the hallway to the living room, he finds Yugyeom with his eyes focused on the boxes of items placed on the table. 

“What’s all this?” He asks, turning to Bambam with eyes so sad that it breaks Bambam’s reluctant heart.

“I moved out a few weeks ago.” Bambam shrugs and Yugyeom seems to swallow the information with a forlorn expression as he studies the boxes of photographs and random junk. 

“So what did you want to talk about?” He asks, feigning ignorance as Yugyeom gathers himself and stares straight back at him. Neither of them speak for a minute until it gets too much.

“I miss you.” Yugyeom confesses and his voice cracks as he says it, tears stinging his eyes. Bambam feels the familiar sway of emotion roll through him as he holds back the tears he hadn’t even realised wanted out, biting down on his lip miserably. 

“I thought you wanted me to overdose.” He says noncommittally, but he doesn’t mean it, just wants to provoke Yugyeom as an act of petty revenge.

“Fuck off, you know I didn’t mean any of that Bam!” Yugyeom growls, successfully agitated, and Bambam flinches. Yugyeom sighs and takes a step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“Why did you leave me, then? If you didn’t mean it?” His voice is fragile and Yugyeom sinks into himself.

“Well you didn’t sound like you exactly wanted me around, Bam.” He muses and Bambam sighs regretfully as he thinks of the terrible things he’d yelled at Yugyeom during their fight. He’d just been so angry, adamant that Yugyeom didn’t understand just because he was looking out for his best friend.

“I know. I’m sorry too. I really do miss you, bro.” 

 

Yugyeom’s mouth quirks up into a sad smile as he sits down on Youngjae’s couch, cushions no longer moulded to accommodate the familiar shape of him and Bambam snuggled together as they play on the Xbox.  Bambam sits next to him but there’s a noticeable gap between them where the cushions meet, line dividing them like they’re borders apart.

“I don’t say it a lot, man, but I really do love you, y’know? You’re my best friend and... you mean the world to me.” Yugyeom admits with a steady blush creeping up his neck and onto his face. They’re not used to being up front about their feelings, words left underlying and implied through midnight fast food runs and kips in each other’s beds when energy is lacking and the journey home is just a little too far.

“I love you too, Yugyeom. I’m sorry for being such an ass. I know you’re just looking out for me… so, thank you for actually caring. It’s more than I can say for most people.” 

Yugyeom chooses this exact moment to reach out an arm and tuck a stray piece of hair behind Bambam’s ear. 

“Of course I care about you, we’re Yugyeom and Bambam, best friends for life. Nothing is ever going to change that. I’m here for you okay? Always.”

The feeling in Bambam’s chest tightens as he pulls Yugyeom into a fierce hug.

  
  


Youngjae finds them asleep on his couch when he gets home, curled up in each other’s arms, and he feels relief wash through him. Maybe things are starting to turn around. 

Before heading off to bed, he drapes a blanket over the two and sighs softly at the sight they make; a motherly pang reverberating in his chest despite their age gap being so small. He guesses this is what Jinyoung must feel like a lot.

He turns off the lights and makes his way to his room on silent footsteps.

 

XXXII.

Jaebum stirs from his accidental sleep as a loud thumping echoes through his apartment, seemingly coming from the front door. He blinks dopily as he scrambles to his feet, hands grasping at the table he’d fallen asleep on for support. He really needs to stop dozing off during songwriting sessions.

He shuffles to the door, mind blocking out the deafening noise coming from the other side of it’s wooden surface.

“Coming!” He yells when the hammering gets too much and it ceases immediately.

As he pulls it open to see what all the ruckus is about, his eyes are met with familiar dark brown and he feels his heart skip a beat, suddenly a lot more alert.

 

“Jinyoung?” He mutters sleepily, wondering if he’s still dreaming. The boy is standing in front of him in little more than an oversized cable knit sweater and a pair of shredded jeans, his hair styled down and his figure buzzing. He exudes nervousness and Jaebum can tell he’s got something on the tip of his tongue, and that his mind is racing 100m a second. 

Jaebum hasn’t properly spoken to Jinyoung since the hospital ordeal, when he’d stayed the night but left promptly in the morning. It’s not that his presence is unwelcome, either, it’s just… unexpected. What time is it even? The sun’s gone down but Jaebum can’t quite gage how—

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Jinyoung’s voice cuts through the air and decapitates his train of thought, mind numbing and introspection melting to static as the words nestle into his brain properly. He blinks in bewilderment as he watches Jinyoung sigh dejectedly, eyes flooded with fear and blown wide with adrenaline. 

 

“You what?” Jaebum asks quietly, his own voice sounding foreign to him. Jinyoung parts his lips, pointed tongue wetting them as he hesitates.

“I said I think I’m in love with you.”

Jaebum’s arms fall to his side as he tries to digest what this means, the infinite possibilities and open ends. God—he hasn’t even started on his own feelings, what if he feels differently? Or...what if he feels the same way? It’s a nagging thought.

He spots Jinyoung open his mouth to talk again in his peripheral and so he holds up a singular, silencing finger, coughing out a low “hold on, I need a minute” as he tries to truly think about this. It all seems so sudden, a confession out of nowhere like a silent car swerving around a corner, but maybe Jaebum knows its been coming for a long time?

Love. In love. Park Jinyoung, his Jinyoung, is in love with him. He thinks.

“Where did this come from?” 

Jinyoung jumps a little at Jaebum’s question before he bounces back and answers it, lips drawn up into that cute little pout he does when he’s feeling confused and vulnerable.

“Well… I was talking to Mark about it and, I’m pretty certain I have feelings for you. Embarrassingly real ones. I don’t know how deep they run, I’m not really sure I can put a name to it, and I’m not expecting you to feel the same but I just… well, you’re my best friend and I think you should know that I’m feeling like this, even though I’m really fucking scared of ruining everything.”

 

Jaebum’s not sure why he does it, whether it’s the insecurity in Jinyoung’s eyes or the falter in his voice, or even some deep inner workings of his own mind, but he plunges forwards and cups both sides of Jinyoung's face as he crashes his lips against Jinyoung’s.

Jinyoung doesn’t hesitate to kiss back as he grasps at fistfuls of Jaebum’s hair, lips moving in earnest as Jaebum parts them with an expert tongue. They stumble backwards a little, still joint at the mouth, and Jaebum rests Jinyoung’s back against the wall as he kicks the door shut. 

They kiss until Jinyoung gets ahold of himself and pushes Jaebum off for a second, their foreheads still connected like a final attempt at intimacy. 

“What are you doing?” He pants as he looks up at Jaebum through lidded eyes, and Jaebum has to think about it for a moment. What  _ is  _ he doing? He’s got Jinyoung pinned against a wall and he can’t really comprehend what’s going on in his head, the only thing he’s got to go off is the halfie he’s currently sporting in his boxers. 

He blinks at Jinyoung.

“Why do you love me? Of all people you could’ve had; Mark, Hyunwoo, Daeil, Wonpil, why me?” 

 

Jinyoung stares at him, plump lips pursed as he seems to consider it, eyes roaming Jaebum’s face cautiously as the silence rings in Jaebum’s ears.

“I sort of just do. It’s like, when I look at you and you look back at me, you  _ see  _ me, and you always know the right things to say to make me feel better. And I get mad at you sometimes but I find it hard to ignore you without missing you more than is probably healthy,” He explains.

“I sleep better when you’re next to me and I get this weird, aching feeling in my chest when I wake up and you’re not there. And I thought it was just me being overly sentimental, missing you as a friend and a companion, but now I’m not so sure. It’s like I’m addicted to you—or something. And it sounds ridiculous but I can’t help comparing everybody to you. It’s just that nobody else seems to turn me into such a fucking, heartsick loser the way you do. I feel like I was just always supposed to fall for you. God, that's corny.”

Jaebum can tell Jinyoung’s struggling with his words for the first time in potentially  _ ever  _ and it’s endearing, his emotional constipation rivalling Jaebum’s own in ways he wouldn’t have ever expected.

“I’m not expecting you to feel the same way, but I need an answer,” Jinyoung says definitively, lowering his eyes to his feet for a last surge of courage. “I’ve been honest with you and I need you to be honest with me. If you don’t like me back, that’s fine, it’s not worth losing our friendship over and I’ll deal with it. But I can’t keep sleeping with you when all it’s doing is torturing me the moment you leave.”

Jaebum stands achingly still and thinks about it for a moment. 

 

He doesn’t like it; the idea of never sleeping with Jinyoung again. And he’s not entirely sure why. He can always hook up with somebody else, Jiyeon or a randomer from some bar, but it’s not really the same thing. There’s something about Jinyoung that just gets under his skin and clings on for life, he can’t shake it.

This isn’t the first time he’s questioned his own possessiveness, or his drive to keep Jinyoung at his side, either. At the end of the day he's always surmised that it’s because Jinyoung means everything to him, and while he can come across as a careless asshole sometimes, Jaebum would never deliberately do anything to sabotage his happiness. Jinyoung’s happiness has always been and will always be important to him on some level, and he finds that it reflects itself in his own mood as well. So here he is, with a decision to make: break Jinyoung’s heart or stop running away. 

It seems like such a simple and obvious decision that Jaebum wonders how he’s never looked at it like this before. Maybe, maybe the reason he’s been warded off by fabricated caution tape is the same reason he’s been telling himself lies about how everything’s too complicated to consider it. Maybe it’s because it was never Jinyoung who was the problem, he’s just been trying to protect himself from getting hurt all along. 

Because falling in love with your best friend is scary. Because waking up in the middle of the night wishing you had somebody to kiss and your best friends face being the first one you think of is a scary experience to have. It’s riddled with doubt and confusion and fear so strong even the deadliest creature would fall prey to its upshots. And Jaebum doesn’t deal well with fear.

Crossing into the uncharted territories of each other’s sexuality had been trying enough, not exactly a typical feature of one’s childhood friendship, and Jaebum had decided then and there that his relationship with Jinyoung would last if he didn’t let himself get too attached.

So whenever he wanted to stay the night with Jinyoung in his arms, warm back pressed to damp chest, he’d get up, pull on his sweater and leave. When he saw Jinyoung in the crowd during his performances, looking up at him with so much affection in his smile, Jaebum would wink at somebody else. When Jinyoung would hook up with another guy, Jaebum would get with whoever he could find, just to prove to himself that it didn’t mean anything.

And he feels stupid now, seriously, painfully stupid, because of course he’s in love with Jinyoung. He’s always been in love with Jinyoung. As somebody who’s always believed that they were very in touch with their own thoughts and feelings, it’s startling, to realise there’s an entire bank of feelings in there, locked away. Well, he supposes, it’s time to open it up.

 

“Ok, um, I’m really stupid. And I think I love you too? No, I mean, I do love you. Which feels new but it really isn’t.” He replies breathlessly, unable to meet Jinyoung’s eyes. The hands on his shoulders feel light and he listens out for Jinyoung’s breathing, just to make sure he’s still there.

“Jaebum, look at me.” He whispers and Jaebum has to suck up every emotion surging through him as he raises his eyes to the same level as Jinyoung’s, teeth buried into the skin of his lip. 

“We’re both stupid,” Jinyoung starts, smiling as he lifts a hand to cup Jaebum’s cheek, a gentle thumb brushing over the slightly rough skin and jutting cheekbones. “But we’re also in love…which sounds really fucking weird to say, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it pretty fast.”

Jaebum chuckles at that, crooning into Jinyoung’s touch ever so slightly.

“Can you believe it’s been almost 20 years since we first met and we’re only now just getting this. This month’s been hell without you.” He smiles, hands sliding down to hold Jinyoung’s waist. 

“Do you know what that means?” Jinyoung replies, delicate fingers moving to massage the skin at Jaebum’s neck as he grins from ear to ear.

Jaebum raises an eyebrow and cocks his head.

“We have a tonne of sex to catch up on.”  

  
  


They get to work on it straight away, hands roaming each others bodies, so familiar to the touch. Jaebum can’t help but wonder, as he chokes up at the sight of Jinyoung unzipping his jeans with his teeth, how he ever managed to deny himself the pleasure of loving Jinyoung.

How he could’ve ever told himself he didn’t want those spit slick lips, or those gorgeous brown eyes, or those lovely nimble fingers or rosy cheeks. He doesn’t understand how he accepted Jinyoung, moodswings and pride and all, but wouldn’t accept his own feelings for him. Because now he has Jinyoung, truly  _ has  _ him, and the idea that it took him 17 years to figure it out has his mind reeling. Well that, and also Jinyoung’s mouth, hot against the outline of his clothed dick. 

So he takes his time, lets himself  _ be  _ in the moment as he makes love to Jinyoung, finally allowing himself to experience the lust and love hand in hand. He smirks proudly when Jinyoung whines and thrashes about as Jaebum eats him out, fucking him so nicely with his tongue. He laughs when Jinyoung bumps his head on the wall when shuffling into the right position to ride Jaebum to heaven and back. He moans throatily on round two as Jinyoung pushes into him, their hands clasped firmly together as his eyes flutter shut. He smiles at the way Jinyoung’s head fits so perfectly under his, face tucked into the junction of Jaebum’s throat and shoulder. He lets himself be filled with the love he has for this boy, for his best friend, and it just feels  _ so good _ to be entirely and irrevocably happy.   
  


He wakes up the next day with a dull ache in his lower back and a terribly dry mouth, but it all pales in comparison to the flowering giddiness he feels when he sees Jinyoung’s naked back in front of him, his eyes playing dot-to-dot with the familiar freckles and moles. His heart jumps in his chest as Jinyoung whines quietly and rolls over, eyes still shut and lips still slightly swollen. There's a feeling of warmth growing inside him at the knowledge that he’s responsible for that.

He stares at Jinyoung for a short while, eyes tracing every line and curve of his face, appreciating his beauty for what it is; ethereal. He wants to bask in this glow forever, the new experience of freshly acknowledged feelings out in the open, but soon enough Jinyoung’s eyes flicker open and he’s looking up at Jaebum in a way that makes his heart stop.

“Morning,” Jaebum mumbles with a smile as Jinyoung yawns, cheeks puffy and eyes droopy from sleep. 

“Good morning,” Jinyoung replies as he shuts his eyes again, shuffling closer to Jaebum to press his nose into Jaebum’s neck. There’s a rumble in his throat as he chuckles, hand coming up to delicately caress the warm, tan skin of Jinyoung’s waist and he presses a fond kiss to the top of Jinyoung’s head. 

“Mmm can I ask you something?” Jinyoung murmurs against Jaebum’s jugular, fingers trailing to Jaebum’s shoulders, brushing over the jutting collarbone with ease. Jaebum almost shivers at the sensation and nods.

“What do you like about me?” 

Jaebum contemplates it for a moment.

“Everything.” He decides.

Jinyoung whines petulantly and pulls back, looking up at Jaebum with both so much affection and annoyance that Jaebum can hardly breathe because  _ he loves this boy so much _ .

“I want specifics, hyung.” Jinyoung protests and Jaebum silences him with a small peck, over in seconds. 

 

“Well, I love your competitiveness. It’s cute as fuck. Remember that time Youngji did better than you on that physics project in school and you made sure to beat her on every exam after?” Jaebum reminds him with a grin and Jinyoung flushes in embarrassment at the memory. He’d been a lot too keen in school. 

“And I love your laugh when you find something too funny, I love how much you taught me about myself, I love the way your eyes sparkle when you see a fireplace, and the way you glare at Yugyeom when he interrupts your reading.” Jaebum muses as he cards a hand through Jinyoung’s hair. 

“I love your eye whiskers and your dimples, the way you pout when you don’t like something, the way you play with your hands when you’re restless, how hard you kiss me when we’re drunk and needy.” He rolls Jinyoung onto his back, pushing him down as he hovers above him. 

“I love it when you’re in a mood but you still let me talk to you, I love it when you get jealous because Jackson takes Bambam out for meals, I love the way you look at me when I’m on stage, I love how you’ve always supported me.” He leans down to kiss Jinyoung, lingering but chaste. He dips further, to Jinyoung’s neck, and kisses it softly enough for Jinyoung’s breath to hitch. 

“I love it when you say my name, and when you scream it, I love the way you tug my hair to guide me.” He murmurs against Jinyoung’s warmth, nuzzling him with his mouth. “And I especially love it when you make this sound.” 

With that he sucks on Jinyoung’s skin, harsh and rough yet weirdly tender, and Jinyoung groans out loud as he’s prone to. Red marks bloom across the landscape of his neck and he can feel Jaebum grinning, teeth bared as his nerve endings catch fire.  He’s slightly pissed off that Jaebum’s gets him this easily, knew precisely which noise he’d make and exactly how to elicit it, but it’s part of what makes his knees go weak and he’ll always be a sucker for it. 

He drags his fingers through Jaebum’s hair as he nips and licks at Jinyoung’s sprouting bruises, rolling his hips up to collide with Jaebum’s, crotch rubbing against crotch. He giggles when Jaebum moans into an open-mouthed pant, nose pushing up against his jaw as Jaebum’s fingertips find his stomach, trailing gently over the line of thin hair. 

“You have time for a round before work?” Jaebum asks as he pulls back, settling comfortably on Jinyoung’s hips and effectively holding him in place. Jinyoung nods eagerly, arms looping themselves around Jaebum’s neck before he pulls him back in for a hungry kiss. 

“I’ll call in sick if I need to, I just want you.” He hums against Jaebum’s lips. Jaebum chuckles breathily and the sound goes straight to Jinyoung’s dick.

“You’re such a romantic.”

Jinyong huffs. 

“Just shut up and make me come.”

 

XXXIII. - Final

It’s been 4 months exactly since Mark officially moved back to LA, Jinyoung notes glumly as he sits down for breakfast in Jaebum’s kitchen, cereal clinking against the ceramic bowl he’d there left a few weeks ago (he likes to surprise Jaebum with dinner sometimes). 

He and Jaebum are also officially dating, now. They’d been widely accepted, by Jackson, who had bumped into them making out at the bar one night, Youngjae, who had found a bunch of Jinyoung’s underwear in Jaebum’s room while tidying and demanded an explanation immediately, and also Bambam and Yugyeom, who had caught them in the middle of a heavy petting session when dropping by to brag about their new, shared apartment. 

Jinyoung had had contact with Mark, of course, and they’d made plans to visit and skype whenever possible, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t felt betrayed at first. It’s not every day that your friend surreptitiously leaves the country with hardly a goodbye or an explanation. 

He’d been a mess, actually, and Jaebum had looked after him through all of it. He still remembers Jaebum washing his hair as he sat hunched over in the bathtub, trying to push back the ugly sobs that wracked his frame at the thought of Mark being gone.  He’d tried to hold in the hiccups as Jaebum dried him off with the softest towel, but he hadn’t been able to stop the flow of tears as Jaebum held him in his arms and whispered comforting promises into his nape, promises that Mark wasn’t gone for good. 

He hadn’t thought about it at the time, but Jackson had been even more of a wreck than he was. 

 

Jackson hadn’t contacted anybody for a month afterwards, dodging everyone’s calls and texts. Even Youngjae couldn’t get through to him, much to his frustration (he’d eventually broken down in front of Jinyoung about how he had been hurt by Mark too and that Jackson was just being a selfish baby, but he knew that Youngjae was partially just upset _for_ Jackson). Eventually, he’d come out of his shell and started talking again, agreeing to nights out and quote unquote family dinners. But he wasn’t the same and everybody could see it, it was transparent. 

Jaebum and Bambam had been angry at first, Jaebum more on Jinyoung and Jackson’s behalves, Bambam because he’d always looked up to Mark a great deal. It had torn everything apart for a brief period of time, but they’d overcome it.

Needless to say the band activities halted too. Youngjae had gotten a job as a music therapist, something he’d always dreamed of doing, and Jaebum started up a new thing with his friend Jaehyung. It was an acoustic duo, and Jinyoung had to confess he much preferred their music, often playing the videos he’d recorded of them performing when he was alone and missing Jaebum. 

And of course there had been a few hiccups in his and Jaebum’s relationship, more petty arguments and one particularly heated one that had resulted in Jinyoung refusing to even enter Jaebum’s apartment for three days straight, but they worked through it. They bounced back and fell in love a little more every time. 

 

“Good morning, love.” Jinyoung hears a rough, morning-heavy voice say as his body is framed by a pair of arms and a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Morning. You and Jaehyung working today?” He replies as Jaebum moves to fiddle around with the coffee machine, stumbling slightly over the rucked up rug. 

“Nah, he’s going to visit Wonpil’s new bar with Younghyun—which means I get the day off.” 

Jinyoung smiles to himself. He and Jaebum may go through ups and downs, and maybe they weren’t meant to work out, but Jinyoung decides that he’s going to live in the present and make the most of it while it all lasts. Because he loves Jaebum and Jaebum loves him and that’s all he could ever ask for.

  
  


Jackson’s heart catches in his throat as he rifles through his mail sleepily and spots his name scrawled in a familiar handwriting, the envelope clearly from abroad. He reluctantly peels it open, stomach knotting in anticipation, and lets himself read the handwritten letter from top to bottom.

 

**Jackson,**

**As you’re reading this I can only imagine that you’re either still angry with me or over me. Honestly, I’m not sure which option I prefer. I’ve moved back to LA, as I’m sure you know, and am currently staying with my parents while I look for an affordable place.**

**I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for everything. I ran away from all of my troubles when you were in the thick of it and for that, I sincerely apologise. But I’ve been thinking and I have to confess, probably the hardest thing of all, that I think I do love you. Did. I’m not sure.**

**And I’m so stupid for not realising it before, but I felt suffocated and unsure of myself and deep down I guess I thought I didn’t deserve you. I guess I was right. I’m sorry for everything I put you through, I’m sorry we didn’t make it official and I’m sorry I couldn’t love you enough. You deserve better than me, I hope you find somebody as amazing and as loyal as you are and that you live the rest of your life as happily as you can. Please tell Youngjae I’m sorry, tell Jinyoung I’m sorry, tell Jaebum and the maknaes that I’m so sorry for everything.**

**You’re a wonderful human being, Jackson Wang, and don’t you forget it.**

**Yours truly,**

**Mark**

 

As Jackson reaches the end of the letter he can hardly read it, vision blurred with tears and hands shaking far too much. He’s angry, of course he’s angry, but more than anything he feels lonely without Mark’s warmth by his side or his laughter echoing through the apartment. He misses him so much sometimes he thinks it makes him delirious. 

He wakes up sometimes, in tears, thoughts occupied by Mark and Mark alone. But then by morning all he feels is a dull ache, and it’s like Mark was never even there before. 

There are days he doesn’t think of Mark at all but this— this is like ripping open an old wound. And it hurts even worse because Jackson isn’t over him, probably never will be, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re continents apart and on different wavelengths.

For all his efforts to avoid speaking to Mark, even when he’d call Jinyoung in the middle of a quote unquote family dinner, Mark has reached out to him and broken his heart all over again.

So he can’t help it when he curls in on himself and cries, cries his heart out at all the missed opportunities and unspoken words. All of the unresolved feelings. He cries until his lungs give out and he’s a heaving mess.

Because at the end of the day, as much as he wants to pretend he doesn’t care, he does. Oh god, does he care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so....thank u sm for reading all of that!!! all kudos/comments are greatly appreciated!!!!  
> sorry about the markson/markjae :-( it just didnt feel right to have everything ultimately work out..... this is probs the longest fic i've ever written so it kinda sucks that i lowkey hate it but overall it was really good practice and i hope that some people out there like it!
> 
> i also just wanna say a thank u to everybody who supports my fics, i really cant stress enough how much it means to me, bc i get huge writing envy and really dont like the way i write at all, so when other ppl like it it just makes me feel really? happy?? anyway
> 
> the song that jb & jr sang in the car is [never let you go by third eye blind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kiHBFwGsUE) and i listened to it a lot while writing that scene aha
> 
> also i recently re-made twitter after deleting it last summer! i mostly just retweet jjp in all honesty but you can find me @trash4jjp


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